


Lora Lie Lo // I’ll Fly For You

by writeyourownlifestory



Category: Queen (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Carnival Row au, Character Death, F/M, M/M, Period-Typical Racism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-08
Updated: 2019-10-02
Packaged: 2020-10-12 18:42:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 26,609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20569067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writeyourownlifestory/pseuds/writeyourownlifestory
Summary: John just wants a bit of sleep. When an associate sends him to the Row, a section of the city filled with mythical creatures, he believes he’ll return home with some sleeping tonic, not a pretty blond fae with a voice like an angel.





	1. Une

**Author's Note:**

> This is what happens when I watch one episode of Carnival Row and decide to make it Dealor. 
> 
> Guess who is back on her bullshit? Get ready for the pain-train y'all cause this is gonna be angsty as hell and you will not like me towards the end of it. 
> 
> Sorry not sorry.

It wasn’t the sound of the train keeping John awake at night as he had gotten used to that endless rattling of the cars upon the tracks. There were a lot of reasons he had approved of this specific location to live. For one, it was private due to the lack of tenets. After all, who wanted to live across the way from the busy railroad? All the people coming and going. Most people believed it to be dangerous as you never knew who was coming into town. 

John knew differently. Those who wanted to cause trouble couldn’t afford a ticket for the train, so they would hide out on boats, entering through the harbor and John couldn’t live farther from the harbor if he tried.

So no, it wasn’t the railroad that kept him up at night.

To be completely honest, John didn’t know what haunted his mind, continuously nagging him and leading him to have an endless array of sleepless nights. He worked hard, but not enough to keep him up at night. And he did not have any personal worries that could cloud his mind.

John lived modestly, on his own amid society. He had friends and very little family, though the latter did not live anywhere in the city. John had traveled on his own long ago in hopes of making something of himself and while it may seem as though he succeeds, the man was still quite unsure of that feat. 

John did not worry about himself often as he found it to be rather pointless. He had a roof over his head and food in his belly. He made enough money to live comfortably but also save up for things he may want though he had always been one to want for nothing. 

His had his toys that he liked to tinker with. He had the instruments that he would sometimes play. A perk of living by the train road was that no neighbor ever banged upon your door, complaining about the noise you could make. 

He lived alone but he preferred it that way. John had never been one to involve himself with the seedy type. He wouldn’t court someone because it was expected of him and while there had been a fleeting romance or two, John had moved on from that rather swiftly. 

His life was his work, making sure that the city itself always stayed lit and if he ever failed at that than the city would fail as well. And John was not one who accepted failure easily. 

He tried to convince himself that it was the endless worrying about his career that kept him awake, but he knew better than that. He worked daily, but it had to be done and never was it anything he had to fuss about. A few corrections here. Adding new additions there. Sometimes he would be inquired to work on the surround sound of the cities theatre or double-check the power plant to make sure there would be no more flickering. In his field of work, John was an important man, but he didn’t think of himself as one. 

Truth was, John knew what was causing his distress though he tried to ignore it to the best of his abilities. After all, what was the point in fussing over something he could not change? He felt quite silly really; like an open fool wearing his heart on his sleeve, allowing the troubles of others to fester his mind. 

He was better than that; his father, rest his soul, did not raise him to care for such idle things. When coming to the city, he was meant to focus solely on himself. To go to school, to get a career, to marry and have a family of his own. He did the former two though he had very little interest in the latter. John did not have time to find someone pretty and show them around. He did not want to waste what little time he had on this world putting on a show when the whole city was going up in flames. 

It started a little over ten years ago when the neighboring land just beyond the sea decided to allow a dictator to take over only for it to implode from the inside. The world of the man decided it was best not to get involved as they had their issues to face. Sure, they had sent over a few good men in hopes of handle the situation properly, but in the end, those men lost their lives and the world of the man decided to close their borders. 

Some were still allowed to enter so long as they paid the price. And over time, some turned into many and by the time John settled into the city, it seemed as though half the population was mythical, not that he minded much. John was raised in the midlands, where mythical families were common enough.

Some tried to keep the two worlds apart, but before the war across the seas broke out, those who dared leave their land were welcomed into the world of the man. John had friends who had horns and hooves and found that those willing to make the trip were the bravest people to ever walk this land. 

There were be no denying that some came over with bad intentions, but the same could be said for some that were born in the land of man. Were was good and bad on both sides and so long as the good outweighed the bad, John had no issue with them being here. 

Of course, others felt very differently and unfortunately, most of those people were the ones in power. There was an obvious social structure and divide that John was wise enough not to cross though that did not mean he turned his chin up to it either. Any person willing to show John kindness and respect was given the same. 

He knew not many felt the same and that hurt the man deeply. He just didn’t understand how one person could believe themselves to be better than another. Who grows up with that type of ideals crammed into their mind? John always knew if he was to have children of his own he would teach them that they were no better or worse than the next person over, though something told him that day would never come. 

If he did he would handle it accordingly, but bringing a child into such a torn world just didn’t seem like a bright decision. Too much was going on around him; too much pain and hate. Sure, a child was a good thing, but he didn’t want to see the light in their eyes go out when the cruel reality came along.

He accepted his life as a singleton and embraced it for all it was worth. After all, he was better off alone. He could come and go as he pleased, doing his work and returning home when he deemed fit even if he did choose to have longer days and shorter nights. 

He thought he could get away with it, that no one would question a thing. After all, John did not stick out very much in his city. He did not dress as he came from money and he kept his hair cut short. When he was young, he had been considered lovely, though he did not think of himself like that any longer. He was a grown man who kept to himself and stayed out of trouble. You wouldn’t have been able to pick him out in a lineup if you tried. 

It seemed, however, that the endless nights were beginning to take a toll onto him and the dark circles under his eyes were not something that would go ignored by all those around him. One associate pointed it out in the early evening when John was finishing up a job that had been requested of him. 

A restaurant popular with some of the higher class folk was having issues with their wiring and John stopped in to check it out. It was a quick fix though he took his time, not wanting it to be a repeated issue. They offered him a spot of lunch and while he declined, John did agree to sit by the bar and nurse a drink as his work was finished for the day. 

Brian, one of the cities most well-known physicians, had been the one to point it out. It didn’t surprise him, as Brain was a man of science and could easily see through the mask that John wore so easily. They had met several times and shared a drink or two. When John ventured into high society, Brian was always the one making him feel welcome.

He tried to play it off as if it was nothing. That he was working too much or in need of a new mattress, but the good doctor saw right through that and just kept staring at the electrician with those narrowed eyes of his. 

“You live alone, don’t you Deacon?” He asked, pulling a lighter from his pocket so he could smoke one of those fancy cigars that everyone in the room seemed to have. “No lover or spouse.”

“Don’t have much time for that, no,” John admitted, shifting in his seat. 

Brian stood them, reaching into his pocket to retrieve his wallet. He pulled out an array of business cards; some were his own while others were from local businesses that he frequented. He pulled one out of the bunch and handed it over to the younger man. 

“Perhaps you could make time then,” He suggested, shoving his wallet into his jacket pocket. “I think this place might have exactly what you need.” 

John read the business card carefully. It was withered and wilted from the constant exchange of hands, but he could read it well enough. “Garden Lodge?” He spoke carefully. 

“Have you ever been to the Row, Deacon?” 

That answer was easy as only those who required something went to Row. It was deeper into the city, on the lower edge near the harbor. The only businesses that went on there were mythically based and while John trusted himself enough to not be caught up in any trouble, he never took the risk to visit it. 

“They should have what you need,” Brian told him before being whisked away any other socialites who wanted to be entertained by the doctor.

John sat alone with his empty glass, his fingers running over the faded words carefully. When he left the restaurant, John told himself to go home. Back to the railroad and to his quaint little flat that overlooked the whole city. Back to the place where he was utterly and completely alone. Like always. 

John was halfway home when his feet suddenly took him down the streets and turned him back around and deeper into the city. Nightfall had yet to come and the sun was high enough for the streets to be lit without the help of the bulbs. Police walked up and down the corners, keeping everything safe though John could see through them mostly. 

They were hired to protect the people of the city, but they were enemies to the mythical just as anyone else. John never understood those who took the oath only to pick and choose who they wanted to keep safe. Seemed rather contradictive to him. 

The Row was nothing more than a market place for those just trying to get by. They would sell everything they could; from bread to meat to themselves if they had to. Honest people just trying to make honest work in a world where they did not feel as though they belonged. John made a mental note to take a look around after visiting the Garden Lodge as he had enough petty cash to splurge and purchase something he may not need so long as it went to someone in need. 

He turned the corner, offering faint smiles to those working the booths as he searched for the Garden Lodge. He came upon it suddenly and while the building didn’t look as torn and beaten like the rest around it, it also wasn’t what he was expecting. 

Coming from a doctor, he thought the Garden Lodge would be a place of herbology or even botany. Natural remedies that one would use when they could not afford or were even skeptic of proper medical assistance. John thought he would be heading to the Row for a sleeping tonic or even smelling salts. 

Instead, Brian gave him the address of what seemed to be a mythical-friendly brothel.

At first, he thought he was mistaken. He dodged all the ladies, who all seemed to be some version of fae, fawn, or something else entirely. 

“Are you looking for something?” A woman asked. 

She was older than the rest, with a worn expression and wrinkled that showed her age. She was blond, though the color was leaving her soon enough. She didn’t seem much older than John, though he had to believe this line of work would stress anyone into an early grave. 

“I think I’m a bit lost,” John confessed to her, shifting where he stood. “I’m not meant to be here.” 

John never passed judgment onto those who sold their bodies for work or the people who purchased them. It was all a means to survive and any person willing to go up and beyond the day in and day out just to survive deserved enough respect. 

But he was not someone who felt the need to buy attention. If he wanted someone to bed him, he would find them on his own. He did not require a lovers touch or the faux glance from someone who saw him as nothing more than a paycheck. 

John turned to leave but was barred from the door by the ladies who worked there. They all smiled at him, bearing their red lips and shiny teeth. They were gorgeous, but that didn’t mean a thing to John, who had just dropped by in hopes of fixing his insomnia. 

Turning on his heel, John moved past the lounge and the bar, slipping through the back door. He took a deep breath of fresh air; the smell of sweat, booze, and perfume leaving him behind. He leaned back against the wall, watching as a nearby lamp post flickered. 

He sighed deeply, stepping towards it only to stop. It wasn’t the lack of tools that had him pausing but rather the sweet sound surrounding the alleyway. It wasn’t a recording from the theatre or even on the radio, but someone singing live. 

It was a sweet, gentle sound that reminded John of his childhood in the country. When he would run around in the fields with his little sister. Their mother used to sing to them and while she wasn’t a professional, John longed to hear her voice after tiring days. She stopped singing when his father died and John realized then it was time to let go of childhood things and become a man. 

Now John was a man, leaning back against the brick wall of the alleyway, listening to the sweet sound coming from a window above. It wasn’t long until his eyelids became heavy and he felt himself slumping back against the block brick. 

The sound of a girlish screech broke John from his trans and he found the sweet music had come to an end. Shaking himself awake, John pushed off the wall and made his way out of the alley and back onto the street. He hurried passed the booths and away from the Row, back uptown and to the noisy rattling train station, and up to his never-felt-so-lonely-until-now flat.

He undressed for the night, skipping supper so he could lay back on his bed. His eyelids weren’t as easy as they had been, but his body was no longer the endless live wire it had been every previous night. He didn’t spend the night tossing and turning, but rather pressed against the pillows where he clonked out after a short while of just resting. 

When he woke in the morning, he wasn’t groggy or uncomfortable. His head was heavy, but he found it to be the type from too much sleep. John could not remember the last time he had too much sleep. 

He tried to shake it off and go about his day but found himself thinking back to the whorehouse and the delicate voice he heard. It had been to easy for his body to relax and he found himself wondering what sort of witchcraft had come from that house. 

He went to the restaurant for one final check on the lighting system and when stumbling upon Brian he cornered the man, asking him what exactly goes on there. 

“It’s a bloody bordello, Deacon. What do you think goes on?” Brian half laughed, his words mumbled as his lips were wrapped around another cigar. “You pay the going rate, pick someone you like, and allow them to take your stress away.” 

“I don’t need someone to take my stress away. I need a good nights sleep.” 

“And who sleeps better than a man after having his cock sucked?” Brian lifted his hand, placing it on John’s shoulder. It weighed heavier than one would expect, though the younger man said nothing. “There is no shame in it. Everybody needs some affection every once in a while and the Pix know how to please a man.” 

“It’s not about shame.” John insisted, shrugging the man’s handoff. “I don’t need any of that.” 

All Brian could do his shrug. “Then don’t return.” He replied simply, turning his attention back onto his drink.

John should have listened, but he could not help himself. The following night he was back to rolling from one side to the other; his eyes red from lack of sleep and his mind moving like the shaking locomotive outside his window. He tried to think of it, to force himself to sleep so he could dream of that beautiful voice, but sleep never came. 

The following day, he carried on like always, completing his work and keeping to himself. When nightfall drew close, John went in the opposite direction of home and headed back to the Row, down the winding streets until he came upon the Garden Lodge once again. 

Entering, he searched around, ignoring the sweet words and empty flirts of the residents until he found the mother of the house. The same aging blonde woman from just days ago; squeezed into a nice dress that had seen better days. He explained the situation, though she wasn’t very helpful. 

“My girls use their mouths for many things, but singing is not one of them.” 

“The voice came from one of the upper windows. One that faces the alleyway.” John explained carefully. 

There was a look of confusion as the woman thought it over and when the realization hit her, she shook her head. “That voice you head? Isn’t for sale.” 

John swallowed hard, his hands clenching to his side. He thought about walking away, but desperation hit him harder than he thought it would. “Everybody is for sale on the Row. You know that as well as I do.” John concluded, the words tasting like vile in his throat. “Your usual rate? I’ll double it. 

There was a flicker in her gaze, a quiver in her lip. Just as he had said, everybody was for sale at the end of the day. John hated it and would hate himself for using such a tactic but he had to see if it was worth a try. 

The woman paused, mumbling for him to stay put before disappearing up the stairs. John moved off to the bar, accepting a simple drink in exchange for a few petty coins. He didn’t need the change in his pocket and the bartender was happy to accept it. And John was thankful for the drink. 

He was in no way an alcoholic but enjoyed the bitterness every once in a while. A small distraction from the horrific world around him. 

He got halfway down the glass when the woman returned. “Double the going rate.” She agreed. “And you follow the rules. You do anything they don’t like, you’re out of here.” 

“And if they do anything I don’t like?” John asked curiously. 

“You’ll like everything they do.” She replied, a smirk across her face. “Payment first. Then the fun begins.” 

Digging into his wallet, John handed over the money, accepting the directions that the woman gave. Up the stairs, straight on and then finally the second door to the right. He knocked first, receiving a gentle response from the other side. 

With one last sigh, John entered the room, closing the door behind him. The room was small; not filled with much. A small vanity in the corner, a whisper of a bed shoved against the wall and a dresser across the way. A laundry basket filled with corsets was shoved off to the side and sitting in the window with the curtains blowing easily from the soft wind was a fae. 

Pix was known to be beautiful. It was in their bloodline. They were known for striking eyes, hair of all different color, fit bodies and most importantly, delicate sings. The mythical sitting before him had all of that; blue eyes as bright as the sky, platinum-colored hair, a thin frame, and technicolored wings. 

John had seen several faes in his time living in the city and while each was different in their own way, there was one thing this fae had that no other did. 

This fae was a man. 

Now, that wasn’t impossible in the least. Just like with humans, there are males and females and even some in-between. It was no different for the mythical folk. But everybody knew that it was a larger chance for a fae to be born a girl; it had been one of the reasons their home had become such a war-torn place. The men that were born had become monsters and were taking advantage of the large number of woman their kind had to offer. 

John had yet to meet a single male fae but here he was, standing in the very bedroom of one. 

“So you’re the one who paid double for me.” The fae mentioned. His voice was increasingly gentle and John could see that he hadn’t been tricked. This must have been the one he heard singing. “Mary says you’re a persistent one.” 

“At times. Not very proud of it.” 

“All moral men feel pride.” The fae commented, pushing away from the window to stand before John. In his hands was a small music crank, the old type that John used to buy for his sister when she was just a young girl. The fae tossed the crack onto the vanity, his hands falling to his hips instead.

He wasn’t dressed like the women were. No corset or tight-fitting attire. He wore simple slacks and a button-up. His blond hair was to his shoulders and ever so shaggy. His skin was pale, though his lips were red and his eyes. John was not one to write poetry but he could think of hundreds of words that could describe how beautiful his eyes were, though even they would not do them justice. 

His wings were outstretched behind him and what was left of the smooth sunlight crept in through the window, shining on them lightly. They shimmered, reflecting their natural colors onto the walls.

“Now, I must admit I don’t do this often so my most sincere apologies if I am a little rusty.” He went onto say, though he didn’t sound sincere in the least. He seemed . . . bothered. As if despite being paid, the fae had other things to do than this and wanted to get it all over with. “How do you want me?” 

John opened his mouth, finding that he was stumbling for words. He had always been rather quiet and thoughtful but he was sure in this moment, all the fae wanted was for him to stand at attention. 

“I heard you singing.” He admitted suddenly. 

The fae raised a brow to him, momentarily caught off guard. “So you want my mouth then? Never done it before, but you’ve already paid. Can’t leave you with nothing.” 

“I don’t want that,” John said outright, stopping the blond before he could come closer. 

The fae paused, his eyes narrowing as he took John in. The brunet was sure he did not have much to offer sight wise. He was gangly though not very tall. He was thin and somewhat boney. He dressed modestly, mostly because he wanted to stay in plain sight. He never did anything that would make people question his motives. Never took any risks and lived each day for the next. 

He was incredibly boring and he was fine with that. 

“What do you want then?” The fae finally asked. 

“I’ve been having trouble sleeping.” He confessed, his fingers fidgeting and twitching as he bound them together. “Your singing. It relaxed me quite a bit. I was hoping you could sing again.” 

The fae watched him as if he was trying to seek out a catch in John’s words, but there was none there. All he could do was offer him the lame truth. He was a sleepy man who needed some assistance. 

“You do realize you’re in a brothel, right?” The fae questioned. “People come here for sex. You honestly paid me to double the going rate just to hear me sing?” 

“Laugh if you need to, but it’s the truth,” John swore, feeling more hopeless than he had when he first arrived. “Please. I’ll stay on the floor if you like. I just need to rest before I lose my head.” 

There was a pregnant pause and for a small moment, John was sure he would be removed from the establishment. He knew it was pathetic and knew it was a long shot, but he just had to try. The fae took a slow breath of air suddenly and turned to close the window. 

“Well, go on then.” He decided, gesturing to the mattress across the way. “For one night you paid me more than I’d make in a week; the least I can do is allow you to share the bed.” 

John moved tentatively, going to sit down on the edge. He removed his jacket and shoes. He wouldn’t normally sleep in his work clothes, but he didn’t want to strip in front of the poor fae. The mattress was thin, but long, allowing him to lay down with his back to the wall. 

The fae moved in close, going to sit beside him. There was another pause between them, with the fae’s gorgeous eyes raking over John’s curled up frame once more before closing. With a deep breath, the fae began to sing.

It wasn’t one John recognized, but that mattered not to him. It was enough to relax his body and with the soft bed and pillow under him rather than the cold, it didn’t take more than a few lines for him to finally fall headfirst into his much-needed slumber. 


	2. Tu

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please, note the change in tags. A lot of people were very wary about the death tag and yeah, someone is gonna die. I won't say who, but I literally started this off calling you to all board the pain train. Don't really know what else to say. I want you all to read this but the number of reactions I received (you know who you are -_-) was insane. 
> 
> All I can say is that I have a pattern to all my stories and you should trust where I go with them. 
> 
> Let's continue, shall we?

This was not the life Roger had imagined for himself. When the war in his homeland began, he thought he’d be able to survive it. It started small, in the larger communities. He didn’t approve of the way his kind were treated but also knew better than to get involved. That’s how it was at first. He tried to stick it out, to stand up to those who believed themselves to be better, but one man was only so strong. 

A bit of a revolution had begun and Roger wanted to be apart of it. He didn’t want to hide out in the corner and wait for it to all die down. People were being killed, and tortured, and enslaved. It wasn’t right and the fact that that so many were turning a blind eye to it was utterly disgusting. 

He fought as much as he could, but it was obvious that the land would self destruct before anybody could change a thing. The war among the mythical had just begun and you could either die fighting it or find a way out. And the truth was Roger, did his fighting. He made his stand and swore that he wouldn’t allow his home to be taken, but there was no way around it. 

He wasn’t proud of the decisions he had made. Wasn’t happy with how things turned out, but he knew that the latter choices weren’t any better. Being a male in the world of the Pix wouldn’t help him at all. There were already a small number of them and those who had taken power weren’t going to share the wealth. 

Female fae was being enslaved by the dozens and any person who went against what the dictators wanted to lose their wings or worse, their heads. Roger knew what his chances of survival were if he chose to stay. So with a heavy heart, he left his world behind. He left everything behind really. 

All the plans he had made. All the things he wanted to do. Gone were his ambitions and hopes and in their place was the realization that this was the world he had to get used to. One where he was looked down upon and spit at. One where he was seen as dirty and unwelcome. 

Roger tried not to let it get to him. After all, this was the norm for his kind. In their land, they would be hunted and in the land of the mortal man, he would be hated. As terrible as it seemed it was very obvious that Roger had to choose the lesser of the two evils and this was it. 

He had lived in the city for three years and in his honest opinion, he did try to make the most of it. Mother Mary was a kind owner. She had taken Roger’s contract as a favor to a former lover, an old friend of Roger’s who had escaped their land years prior in hopes of making something of himself. Roger never saw Farrokh when he arrived in the city as Mary had sold his contract in the request of the man. 

Roger could only hope that he was onto bigger and better things in this world; something that seemed so unimaginable to the fae. 

Despite working at the brothel, Roger did not sell his body to the highest bidder. At least, not all the time. There was always one that sought out a male partner and after a bit of persisting, Mary and Roger came to an agreement that if the person was willing to pay higher than the usual rate that he’d take one for the team. 

He didn’t hate it. After all, he had been rather popular among the ladies and men back in his homeland, but that was when he got to choose his partner. Being bought made him feel . . . odd. Used but also strangely wanted. The blokes could have anybody mythical in the house but were oh so very willing to drop that extra money for a night with him. 

He didn’t allow it to go to his head. This wasn’t who he was. He had no judgment to the ladies that worked in the house, but he didn’t see himself as someone worth spending the money on. It happened so rarely though. Mary didn’t promote him the way she did the other ladies. They were there to be purchased, to show off the gifts they have been given. 

Roger was used for other things, such as running errands and watching over the land. Despite being a pretty fae, Roger was strong and wasn’t afraid to throw a fist if a mortal man got too handsy with one of the ladies. He was one of the three men who worked to keep the patrons in line and he was proud of it. He also did a bit of laundry if the pile got too large and wash down the floors if a wild night happened. 

He was free to go about anywhere he liked during the day though many fae folks were warned not to go beyond the Row. There were no bans in place as of yet, but leaving the one area that accepted them was a dangerous game. And while Roger had always been rather thick-headed in his youth, he got wiser with age and knew better than to press his luck. 

He mostly kept to himself, spending his days sitting in his window and looking over at the brick wall it faced. He never got a good look of the city unless he flew up to the roof but Roger had never been one to use his wings often. At least not in the city where the police had very little issue ripping you out of the sky if they thought you were flying too high.

Roger would never say he had a good life with Mary. He would never say he was living. He was surviving. He was getting by doing all he could. 

So when a mortal man offered to pay twice the normal rate of a night just to listen to him sing, Roger was intrigued. He wasn’t a professional, not in the least. Nor did he think he’d ever make a career of it. Farrokh had been the one in the land that wanted to use his voice for a higher purpose. Roger could carry a tune and would sing mostly for his enjoyment. 

He never imagined making money off of it until now. 

The man, whose name he found out to be John, was interesting, to say the least. Most men that came and wanted to buy him had one thing on their mind. Fucking a fae was intriguing to them. Perhaps due to how frowned upon it was in their world. It wasn’t illegal, but the idea of breeding and creating a half-breed was disgusting in the eyes of many. Roger had met only one person who dared to be involved with a mythical and they had never been treated the same. Practically shunned from society. The trouble just wasn’t worth it to the mortals. 

John wasn’t there for a fuck, however. He didn’t want Roger on his knees with his cock in his mouth nor did he want to be bent over with the fae pressed up behind him. He didn’t want any physical connection with him at all. 

It wasn’t as if he was appalled by Roger. They sat together in his tiny bed and after the third time the man came to see him, Roger had given up kicking him out and just chose to sleep beside him. He was harmless enough. Didn’t twist in turn in bed or hog the blankets. He was just a regular man who needed a bit of help sleeping. 

After the first night, he didn’t expect him to come back. He slept three hours in his bed before Roger finally insisted that he had to go. After all, his bed wasn’t big enough for them to both sleep properly after all. 

He stumbled out of the room in the middle of the night, mumbling a gentle word of thanks to Roger as he did. Roger didn’t think of him much after that. To Roger, the man was just another client. He carried on with his word; keeping the bastards away from the girls and cleaning up after everybody’s messes. 

It was three nights later when the man returned and it was then that he learned his name was John. They didn’t talk much, mostly because of the reason John came in the first place. He worked long hours and just wanted to rest. He would lay in Roger’s bed as the fae sang all the songs he could think of. 

Roger would allow him to stay a few hours before shoving at his shoulder, forcing him from his slumber so Roger himself could get some shut up. He came back a few nights later, looking more exhausted than he had any of the previous times. And when he tried to wake him, the poor man barely budged. 

Roger took pity on him and allowed him to stay, deciding to sleep beside him. When morning came, John was a bit at a loss of words, having forgotten where he was for the moment. He thanked Roger just like he did every other time and left the house, returning a few nights later. 

He did this every few days for nearly a month before Roger finally decided to pick at his brain and find out what it was that kept the man from sleeping. 

“I just don’t get it.” He confessed as John entered his room for the tenth time. 

He paid more than others and it didn’t seem to be taking a hit to his wallet. He had pestered Mary to find out about him through all she could come up with was that he worked with electric. If he had such long hours, shouldn’t that tire him out more? He was a moral man with a good job living in a land run by his kind. What tortuous thoughts could be plaguing his mind?

“What could be keeping a man like you up at night?” 

John shifted where he stood, his cheeks turning scarlet in the dim light of Roger’s bedroom. It was obvious the man didn’t like to be the center of attention, even if it was just the two of them. 

“I couldn’t tell you.” He confessed quietly. “It’s been like this for a while now.” 

“Have you lived here your whole life?” Roger asked, moving to sit up against the wall beside his bed. 

John shook his head, taking a few steps deeper into the room. “No. I was raised in the country. Far away from cities like these.” 

“Explains a lot,” Roger commented. When John gave him a short, confused glance, he explained. “I’ve only been here a short time, but it is easy to pinpoint the people who were birthed here. They treat any newcomers like fleas rather than friends.” 

“How long have you been here?” John inquired, coming to take a seat on the edge of the bed. 

“Three years. Came here with two girls. One who was sold off and the others . . . went off once and never returned.” Roger didn’t know what has happened to the girl. Perhaps she ran off and escaped the city or maybe, like so many others, she was taken by someone. Enslaved or killed. Nobody knew. 

“And Mary’s had your contract the whole time?” 

Roger took a drag of his cigarette. Mary frowned upon it as it made the lodge look less classy but he wasn’t here to sell himself. John was in his room so he had already paid and since the brunet had no intention of using his tongue for anything other than singing, Roger had no reason not to take a few puffs. 

Due to the way things had gone down when the mortals tried to intervene in the war back home, they made it very clear they didn’t want any of the mythical’s coming over. If they did, they would be sent back. It seemed so many tried over the years that they weren’t able to keep them out without looking like a bunch of monsters in their way. 

Any mythical who wanted to come over had to have the proper paperwork and a contract that someone would purchase. It was a way to keep track of who came over and keep the population down. Some went beyond the system and came over illegal while others were able to become something more and buy their contract off of the holder. 

Roger had yet to achieve that, but then again, he hadn’t tried. He was comfortable where he was. He had a roof over his head and food in his belly. Mary was good to him, as she promised she would be. He had no reason to leave. 

“She’s good to me. It could always be worse.” Roger had heard far too many horror stories about his kind of being abused by their contract holders. Roger knew he should be grateful and for the most part, he was. It could always be worse. 

Always, always, always. 

“Could be better as well,” John commented and while it was a very bold statement, Roger decided not to comment. 

There was no point in focusing on whether or not his life could be better or worse. He was too busy just trying to survive. 

“Mary didn’t take all my money this time. Less than half.” John confessed somberly. “Why is that?” 

“I spoke to her about your payments. Seems rather unfair you’re paying double just to get a good nights sleep.” 

“I don’t mind it,” John reassured though Roger shook his head, turning his face to blow the smoke from his lips. 

It had been a strange conversation, admitting that he didn’t want to take the larger cut. Mary was unpleased by it, but Roger put his foot down. From what he could see, John was a decent man and didn’t deserve to be taken advantage of. Roger informed her that if she tried to charge him double the normal rate he would refuse to serve him. And Roger made it very clear that John wouldn’t accept any of the ladies she would try to shove his way. 

It was obvious that Roger was the only one who could give John what he wanted and he refused to take any more than he deserved. After all, it was just singing. 

“It's very rare we get a kind man walking through these doors, John. You shouldn’t have to pay double just for some shut-eye.” 

“I could give you the rest. You could keep it for yourself. I won’t tell her.” John offered, though the blond waved him away, reaching out to stub the end of the cigarette out in the tray beside the bed. 

“There is more to life than money, John. I may not know much, but I know that.” 

John watched him with those big gray eyes that Roger had become accustomed to. His kind was known for being so very colorful while mortals were very dim and bleak. Grey eyes should not have been appealing but they worked for John. They fit well with the rest of his features, which to any mortal would seem rather bland, came off as delicate and appealing to Roger. 

He was a beautiful man even if he didn’t try to be and while it was clear he had no intentions of doing anything other than sleeping when they were together, Roger allowed himself to bask in the presence of such a nice looking person. 

“Now. What shall I sing tonight?” He changed the subjection easily enough, moving so he was lying sideways on the mattress, his wings spreading out behind him. 

He had caught John watching them a time or two, though never did he stare the way some did. He never asked to touch them. Never did he see John’s fingers twitching to reach out and feel the smooth texture of his wings, though Roger did find himself wondering what John’s hand would feel like on them and himself. 

John’s hands were careful thanks to his career, but also rough. Deft from the sparks he had dealt with and the constant use they went through. They had touched a time or two and while most would question the roughness of an upper-classman, Roger found himself intrigued by it. His own hands weren’t delicate or soft, unlike the rest of his kind. 

Fae’s were meant to be gentle and pretty. And while Roger had been know to fit the latter part, there was no pretending like he was a lace little thing made of porcelain. He worked and got into fights. He was rough around the edges and he wasn’t going to change that. 

“What was it you sang last time?” John questioned, moving the mirror Roger’s body placement. 

Roger had chosen a handful of songs that he knew from his land. Soft lullabies that all fae parents had sung to their children as well as a few he had learned as he grew up. He learned a few new pieces upon coming to the mortal land and sang some of them as well for John, though it was always the former that helped him rest the best. 

John had proven to be a sound sleeper, something that surprised him since he had so much trouble, to begin with. Sometimes he would allow John to lay alone in the bed while he got a bit of work done. He’d go downstairs and survey the sitting room, making sure no funny business was going on. Other times he’d finish up with the laundry so he’d be able to sleep in the following morning. 

Other times he’d go to bed with him, choosing to get an early night beside a nice looking man and other times, he would just lie awake and admire him. Laying in the same bed gave Roger a chance to be up close and personal with the man. He traced every inch of the man’s face with his eyes and came to memorize every little freckle and mark. 

There was so much about this man that fascinated Roger and he had to constantly remind himself that this was nothing more than a business relationship. Roger could offer John something nobody else could, but that was all he wanted from him. Roger wouldn’t allow himself to get his hopes up to feel bad about himself. He had so much more to worry about. 

One of those things was how deeply John slept. So much so that Roger could move around the room without him even budging. Roger thought of all the times he could have taken his wallet and emptied all the contents leaving him with nothing. Roger wondered if Roger trusted him enough to not do just that. Trusting the fae was an unknown tactic in this land. 

But Roger was not like those who hurt and stole. Against the judgment of the mortals, he did have morals and he would stand by them for as long as he could last in this land.

He fell asleep beside the man, making sure to keep a distance between them despite the size of the bed. When morning came, they left the room together. John mentioned going home to change before going back home while Roger was to do his work. Mary had insisted there was a list of things they needed to restock and it was his job to make up the list and upon approval, go purchase the things. 

They were in the middle of chatting, about to exit the Lodge when John stopped suddenly, his attention leaving Roger and settling on a couple kissing off in the corner. Roger had seen them a time or two as the girl was a member of the Lodge. Anita was a nymph from up north of Roger’s land and while she was a kind girl, she could be annoying at the time. 

He couldn’t blame her as it was just her kind. Nymphs were known to be very needy as they loved all affection. They worked perfectly in the brothel as they were more than happy to sell themselves if it meant having someones completely attention onto them. 

Anita had stopped being one of the working ladies for quite some time now as one mortal patron took it upon himself to keep her as something of a mistress. He paid extra for her to remain at the lodge as it was the only home she’s ever known. Anita had bragged a time or two about how the good doctor offers her an apartment of her own but she refused him. Now she worked as a maid, taking the doctor up to her room whenever he dropped by for a visit and showing off all the pretty things he bought her over the weeks they’ve been together.

Roger believed this was her way of keeping him wanting more and to perhaps persuade him to keep coming back for more. 

“Brian,” John commented, watching the two with narrowed eyes. 

The doctor, whose name appeared to be Brian, pulled away only slightly from his lady. He kept his arms around her and Anita made sure to keep her lips attached to his neck and jaw. Roger was used to this sort of thing. The ladies were always ready to claim any man willing to pay for them. Roger couldn’t care in the least. 

“Ah, Deacy! What a pleasant surprise. Didn’t expect to see you.” Brian mentioned, looking the two over. He has the look of a well-rested man who spent the evening having his cock sucked, just like all the other clients who left the morning after. “Who do we have here?” 

“That’s Roger, love. You know him.” Anita spoke softly, turning in his arms so she could face them. “He’s our fluttering bodyguard.” 

“Of course. Silly me for forgetting. Hello Roger.” The fae offered a short bob of his head, watching as the man tightened his grip around Anita. “I was just heading back into town. Need a lift, Deacy?” 

“Oh. I don’t want to intrude.” John mentioned though Brian waved him away. 

“Nonsense! We’ll take my car.” Turning his attention back to Anita, Brian locked his lips onto hers, kissing her deeply. 

He kissed her in a way that was intimate and sincere that it felt so strange to be done in the open. Kisses like those should have been done behind closed doors but then again there was no shame here. No resistance. Inside Garden Lodge, there was nothing to hide, so Roger did not turn away and blush at the sight as John did.

After the kiss, Brian released his lady love and went out the door, calling John to follow. The other man turned to Roger, offering a crisp goodnight and polite nod to Anita before stepping in line and leaving the lodge. 

Anita turned away from the door, lifting her arms high to stretch as she yawned ever so softly “Sorry. I’m just so tired. Brian and I didn’t sleep much last night.” She replied. Roger could only hum, turning away so he could begin his work for the day. “If your man treats you even half as wonderful as mine treats me you’ll be a very lucky man, Roger.”

“I’ll remember that,” He commented, not paying her much mind. 

He had other things to do. The pretty little nymph could skip around the lodge and brag about her mortal doctor if that was what made her happy. The pantry still needed to be stocked and the floors still needed to be cleaned. Having a lover wasn’t going to change any of that. 


	3. Thr'e

John had forgotten what it felt like to work after a well-rested sleep. He had gotten so used to being completely wired, spending the night tossing and turning and then forcing himself up and out of bed to complete the tasks asked of him. He was good at his job. Great at it. So doing so on two to three hours of sleep was nothing to him. 

On seven or eight, however, he was unstoppable. Being able to focus completely on one specific job and then move onto the next without the headaches or irritation was like being in a whole new world. Everything was easier for him and he had Roger to thank for that. 

He had gotten to know the fae over the following weeks they’d spent together. John would come to Garden Lodge every three nights to recharge his mental battery and get a full nights sleep. It had been a rough patch at first, with the two of them tiptoeing around each over, but eventually, they found a kind middle ground. 

Roger put a bit of trust into him, since he meant no harm and just wanted a bit of help. John helped him in turn, giving him the pay he deserved even if they did lessen it over time. John wanted to argue with him but knew better than that, though that didn’t stop the man from sneaking a few bills under Roger’s mattress for him to find on his own time. He was working wonders for John and he should be paid accordingly. 

It wasn’t long a peaceful slumber that Roger offered, but also decent conversation. John would be the first to admit that he did not have many friends. Or any, if he was being completely honest. John threw himself completely into his career when he left the country and sometimes that meant overlooking the little things like turning associates into something more. 

He had a few female friends that he had partially courted and slept with, but none of those ever lasted. He knew people in his industry, but those were work colleagues. None of them had anything to offer John outside of the electric system. 

The only person John truly spoke to or saw around town was Brian. He had not been surprised when he found him kissing the nymph woman. A man does not carry around the business card of a whorehouse if he is not a returning customer. 

John had never approved of extramarital affairs. He found them to be tacky and quite disgusting. Marriage was something people should have taken very seriously; to go against the vows you made to your partner and God . . . it just didn’t sit well with the man.

And yet he found himself having a very hard time judging Brian. After leaving the lodge together, John was quick to go his separate way, not wanting to hear Brian babble some excuse about how he is a grown man with needs that only a mythical can offer. He went home and changed for work, hoping that the next time he went to that big fancy restaurant he wouldn’t run into the physician. 

Instead, he stumbled upon Brian at the local gambling bin. The machines had been having a bit of trouble and John stopped by to check out the wiring. He had just gotten everything in working order when the doctor walked in with a group of men. They were celebrating a birthday or something of the sorts. The curly-haired man broke away from the group to seek John out, persuading him to go outside for a smoke. 

John wasn’t a cigar man and only had a cigarette when he was vexed about something. Regardless, he followed Brian outside, standing off to the side as he overlooked the land. It was then that Brian began to spin him a story about how he met the nymph. 

She had come to his office with an injured leg. Brian is one of the few mortal doctors that would willingly see mythical patients, taking care of her wound. She had been turned away by two other doctors and was somewhat desperate. So when Brian welcomed her into his office, she found herself infatuated with the man. 

Brian admitted there was an obvious attraction, but he did his best to keep her at bay. Due to the infection from her bruise, he had to seek her out and the more time he spent with her, the more he began to feel things. He tried to deny himself, remembering that he had a wife and children. 

But he was only a man and even they make mistakes. It was physical at first and while he tried to play it off as nothing more, Brian quickly saw that he was fooling himself. He could turn up his nose at the idea of being involved with a mythical, but there was just no point in the matter.

“I didn’t try to fall in love with her, Deacy. It just happened. It’s not something you can avoid.” 

John wanted to argue with him. There were several things that Brian could have done. Turned Anita away or left her with her antibiotics. Could have taken the oath he made to his wife and his career and put that first. 

But at the end of the day, he was just a mortal. Just a man. 

A mortal man who went and fell in love with a mythical. 

His marriage was not perfect, but he didn’t want to ruin the lives of his family any more than he already had. John didn’t know what was worse, for Brian to keep the woman he truly loved at arm's length or to return every night and put on a happy face. He almost pitied the man. 

Almost. 

John tried not to think much about Brian’s love life as he had his own to deal with. He had found that after a month with Roger that he was beginning to care for him in a way that didn’t sit well with his way of life. 

He wasn’t the type to be against the mixing of species. He quite liked the idea of mortals and mythical’s being together. What better way to bring peace to the nation than to mix the bloodlines completely? 

Not, it wasn’t a prejudicious thing, but rather his personal belief in mixing business with pleasure. 

The truth was John had become quite used to the way things were working between himself and Roger. He was finally beginning to get some real sleep and he worried that if he made a move and Roger rebuffed him that the dynamic had set up together would be destroyed. And that just wasn’t a risk the man was willing to take. 

He could shove down his feelings for the sake of feeling refreshed and lively, especially when it came allowing him to work so much better. 

He had finished up early, having spent his morning going around town, visiting several difference businesses, fixing anything that was broken. He hadn’t expected to finish quite so early, allowing him to have the rest of the day to himself. Truth was, despite being on his own, John didn’t do much in his time. 

His career was his life and outside of that, John didn’t have much to offer. He tinkered here and there, fixing soundboards and creating amplifiers that the local concert hall used whenever they needed a really good sounding machine. He had stopped in a couple of times to tune in some of the instruments while rechecking the boards, but aside from that, he was a bit of a homebody. 

Rather than return to his flat straight away, he decided to go into town to check out the shops. He had made enough money as of late to splurge a bit and hoped to fill up his pantry with something sweet for him to have on nights when he had the craving. 

He was about to turn the corner towards the bakery when he witnessed a bit of a scuffle happening on the street. 

Two men were fussing in the street and while fist wasn’t flying, the movements the made and the words they spoke were enough to determine that the conversation wasn’t going in the right direction.

“I have the right to refuse service to anybody of my choosing. And that includes fairies.” The store owner spat sharply. 

“My money is just as good as anybody!” The patron snapped. 

It was the sound of the voice that had John stopping in his tracks. Even without seeing the person, John knew exactly who it was. He had become accustomed to hearing that voice weekly and it didn’t take much more than that to have him turn on his heel and make his way over. 

“Money that you store or made doing something against the law I am sure.” 

“I work just like you do. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t!” Roger snarled, stepped closer to the man. 

“Leave or I’ll call the police.” 

“And what? Have them arrest me for trying to buy blood shoe polish?” 

The man moved forward then and John knew if he didn’t intervene in one way or another then something would go wrong. And he knew well enough whose side the police would take. 

“Is everything all right here?” He spoke, watching as both men turned their attention onto him. 

Roger’s gaze softened slightly and in a moment he was stepping away from the shop owner. His shoulders slumped carefully and as he rubbed the back of his neck, John could see he was trying to make himself smaller. 

“Just taking out the trash is all.” The store owner commented. The man looked at Roger once more but kept his mouth shut when he went back into the shop. 

“Did you need anything? Do you want me to get it for you?” John offered. If the man wouldn’t take Roger’s money, then surely he would accept John’s. After all, aside from the hand, it came from, it was all the same money. 

“I don’t need any bloody handouts!” Roger snapped, his blue eyes widening as soon as the words left his tongue. He sighed deeply, looking more defeated than ever. “I’m sorry, John.” 

“Don’t be,” John assured him. “He may not accept your business but I’ll make sure the next time his lights start flickering that I don’t accept his.” 

“No, John. I don’t want you fighting my battles.” Roger told him. “It’s not worth it.” 

“You’re right. Accepting payment from a racist bastard like that is not worth it.” John went onto say, offering a cheeky smile to the shop owner as he glanced out the window. 

Roger teetered on the balls of his feet, his cheeks still red from his embarrassment. “Thank you.” He added, looking off to the distance. 

John wasn’t going to push the issue or make something into it. Things like these were, unfortunately, the norm for the fae; John didn’t want to make Roger feel more uncomfortable than he already was.

“Do you have any more shopping to do?” John asked, looking at his watch. He knew Roger began work at sundown so they had a bit of time left before he had to return to Garden Lodge. “I was going to do to the bakery and check out some of the biscuits. Care to join me?” 

“We’re not on the Row, John. Being seen with me isn’t the best idea.” 

Mythical’s weren’t barred from shopping uptown, but there were no laws against discrimination. Shop owners could deny service to anyone they pleased and while John thought it was a load of horse shit, there was no going against it until the councilor did something about it. Still, the best way to fight injustice without losing your head was to kill it with kindness. 

“Who said I wanted the best idea?” John suggested, already heading in the direction of the bakery. “Come along. I’ll buy you a raspberry tart.” 

John didn’t bother to wait for the fae. Roger waited for about three paces before hurrying to catch up to the man. “I prefer the lemon.” 

John bought Roger a lemon tart and himself a raspberry. He also picked up a few extra treats to have at his flat, all of which were boxed up for safekeeping. He led Roger out of the bakery and down the street, both keeping up with whatever conversation they had started.

John had always been the quiet type; the one who only spoke when spoken to and mostly kept to himself, but it seemed he always had something to say when it came to Roger. The blond could comment on just about everything, from the weather or whatever local sport the city was raving about. He was like any other bloke walking the street with the small exception being he had a beautiful pair of wings tucked neatly into his back. 

They were about to head downtown so Roger could freshen up before work when the fae suddenly fell face-first onto the pavement. John reached out to help him up, ignoring the snickering around them. He didn’t know what to think of it, wondering if Roger had fallen over his own feet or the toe of his boot got caught in a snag on the street. 

Instead, it was two men leaning against the nearby wall. One had stuck his foot out purposely, allowing the fae to trip so carelessly. 

John went to grab the wrapped up lemon tart that had skit across the pavement when one of the goons beat him to it. The man scooped it up, holding it out in front of the two. When Roger reached out for it, the man dropped it and promptly crushed the remaining pieces with his foot. 

“That was uncalled for,” John muttered, holding still as Roger tugged at his arm. “Apologize.” 

“For what?” One of the men commented.

“For tripping him. For being a disrespectful git.” 

“I don’t own that Pix a damn thing.” The first man muttered, sending a glare over John’s shoulder. “He should know better than to leave the Row.” 

“Didn’t your mother teach you any manners?” 

“You got a bold tongue for a fairy fucker.” The second man spoke up, moving towards John in a way he guessed was meant to be intimidating. 

John didn’t get intimidated easily. He had no reason to. Nobody ever tried to pick a fight with him nor did he try to pick a fight with anybody else. He stayed in the shadows, out of sight and out of trouble. It was easy for him. 

Roger didn’t live so luckily. He was forced into situations like these, even when he was doing nothing at all. Even when he was just out buying some shoes or walking down the street. 

“Why don’t you two head back to the Row where you belong?” The man suggested.

John wanted to say something else but didn’t get the chance. Roger took hold of his arm and began pulling him away. They had only made it a few steps before John found himself stopping dead in his tracks. 

It was the words that left the man’s mouth that had John clenching his hand into a fist, had him break away from Roger’s hold, and had him turning back around. During the years he had lived in the city, John had heard quite a bit of foul language used. It was horrible and while he didn’t say it himself, he knew better than to accept those who did.

“Imp trash,” The man muttered just loud enough for the two to hear. 

Roger had ignored it though John saw him visible flinch at the word. That alone was enough to push him in doing what he did. 

Walking back to the man, John turned him around by his shoulder and swung his first forward, punching the man square in the jaw. He fell backward, obviously caught off guard by the other man. The second man went to hit John, but the brunet was faster than him and dodged the hit, going to strike the second goon as swiftly as he could. 

Just as both men were back on their feet and ready to take John on, they were interrupted. Not by the police, who surely would have taken the side of the two buffoons, but by the city butcher. Jim Beach had two things going for him. He was an absolute sweetheart who wouldn’t hurt a fly and he was built like a bloody ox. Only thought who knew him personally was aware of the former, while all others excepted him to be an absolute beast. 

“Everything all right, John?” He called out, making his stature known. If his size wasn’t enough to pique the interest of the two men than his friendliness towards John and the clever in his hand surely did the trick. 

With their cheeks red and mouthes bloody, the two hurried back down the street, leaving John and Roger behind. 

“We’re fine, Jim,” John spoke, offering the man a faint smile. Only when Roger spoke his name did the brunet come back to reality and the realization of what had happened hit him. 

He lifted his hand, which was red and bruised from having hit the bastards so hard. His knuckles were bleeding and his hand, in general, hurt like a bitch, though he paid no mind to it until Roger insisted that they take care of it. 

Rather than head all the way downtown with a busted fist, John led Roger to his flat by the train station, mumbling an apology for the mess. He didn’t have visitors often so he never took the time to clean in. 

In reality, the place was somewhat empty excluding a few wires left amount and pieces of circuit boards sitting around. He lived a very simple life and didn’t need expensive things. He could spoil himself in different ways if he felt the need, but rarely did that ever happen. 

Once inside the flat, he gave Roger a short tour. Pointing out his room, the washroom, sitting area. He went into the kitchen to grab a bit of ice for his hand while Roger busied himself trying to find the first aid kit. He had one in his bedroom, because he was smart enough to, and Roger led him over to sit on the bed so he could get to work. 

“You’re good at this.” He mentioned after a moment of watching him fuss about with the medical supplies. 

“I was a medical student before retreating my home,” Roger confessed. “Well, sort of. I studied dentistry but when that proved to be increasingly boring, I went into biology.”

“Did you get to finish school?” 

“Just barely.” Once the cuts were clean, Roger lathered John’s hand in ointment to keep him from getting any infections. “I got my contract right after. I think it was one of the reasons I was accepted. I had something to offer.” He bandaged him up, going to wrap his hand up for good measure. “Anyway, now all my degree is used for is keeping the girls from getting STD’s and cleaning up any wounds created by throwing some pervert out on the street.” 

“You protect the girls. You work is important, Roger.” 

“Some people need protection. I’m not one of them, John.” 

It was a thrill to hear him say his name, even if it shouldn’t have been. John was such a typical man, used by a typical man. There was nothing spectacular or special about him. And yet the way Roger was looking at him like he created the world in the palm of his busted up hand. It was almost too much to bear. 

“I won’t apologize for standing up for you, Roger. So don’t expect me to.” John swore quietly. 

He didn’t do it because he wanted to earn goodness points or get into Roger’s good gracious. For the longest time he had been putting up with the injustices that have been going on around him and he was tired of it. Nobody deserved to be treated so unfairly. He did what he did not for thanks, but because it was the right thing to do. 

Roger shifted where he sat, those bright blue eyes casting downwards. In the lime sunlight that broke through John’s bay window, he looked like an angel. So delicate that if he dared reach out and touch him, he worried he would fall apart beneath his fingertips. 

John knew better, however. Roger wasn’t soft or breakable. He was a man, just as John was. He just had wings to go with him. 

“Nobody,” Roger began, pausing suddenly. He sighed, lifting his head so those blue eyes could lock on John’s gray pair. “Nobody has ever done anything like that for me. Nobody has ever gotten involved for my own sake.” 

“You shouldn’t be pushed around because you are different.” 

“You may be one of the few that feel that way.”

“Then do be it,” John answered swiftly. “I would rather be shunned by my kind that hates someone different from me.” 

Roger chuckled, shaking his head in disbelief. “That bastard was right. You do have a bold tongue.” He ran his fingers along with John’s hand and in turn, John twisted it around so he could lace their fingers together. His hand ached from the punches he threw but it was worth the small ounces of pain when he felt Roger tighten his hold. 

They sat together on John’s bed, allowing the echoing engine of the running train to be the only sound that passed through the room. It was so simple and get one of the most intimate moments John had yet to have with someone. 

“You’re playing a dangerous game, John,” Roger warned him, those blue eyes holding his gaze for as long as possible.

John wasn’t one to falter. Wasn’t someone who would break away when tensions get too high. He stayed out of trouble, but that didn’t mean he was a coward. John took things on headlong and without worries. It was just in his nature. 

“I play to win, Roger. No point in playing otherwise.” 

It was probably the most daring statement John had ever muttered and he meant every word of it. He didn’t back down when things got tough and he wasn’t going to turn a blind eye to the horrors that those around him had to face. He wasn’t going to sit back and allow the world to go on without him. 

And he wasn’t going deny himself something that he truly believed could make him happy all because he feared things he didn’t know. 

John may not be fearless, but he wasn’t a fool. Not any longer. 

Leaning forward, John closed the space between himself and Roger, pressing his lips to the faes. He started slow, though kept the kiss firm. He wasn’t nervous in the least and didn’t want Roger to think otherwise, but he also didn’t want to force the kiss onto the male. If Roger did not feel the same, then he’d accept that and move on. He gave Roger the chance to pull away. To put an end to all of this, but that moment never came. 

Instead, Roger lifted a calloused hand and cupped John’s jaw, tilting the brunet’s head ever so slightly so he could deepen the kiss. It was no surprise to either of them when a hungry groan escaped their throats and as Roger moved forward, going to push John to lay back onto the bed, neither made a reason to stop and pause the situation. 

They just kept going and going until all that was left was each other. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy the fun while it last people. Hell is coming and all you readers have a one-way ticket on the pain train.


	4. Fore

Roger wasn’t lying when he told John he was playing a dangerous game. There were no laws preventing mortals from being intimate with a mythical but that didn’t mean people would approve of it. Chances were very little would. Something about the mixing of bloodlines or whatever. Roger never paid much mind to it, simply because he never planned on getting involved with a mortal. 

He never planned on getting involved with anyone. The risk was too high and he had too much to lose. Of course, John didn’t bat an eye to this. Strange as he had, even more, to lose in the situation. He had work that forced him into the upper-class life and if those people turned on him than he would be left with nothing. 

Roger had to survive in this world but even he understood how little his life really was. John was risking everything just by visiting the brothel every few days for a bit of sleep. To turn this relationship into anything other than a business exchange wasn’t something Roger would have ever suggested. John deserved better than that. 

And yet, neither seemed to care. They fell headfirst into a lust-filled affair, not caring about the risks that were hanging above them. 

Roger had tried to convince John otherwise. They had told one another almost everything. From the story of how Roger’s first flight ended with him crashing to the ground to John’s fear of water. He could not swim, something that surprised the fae as it didn’t seem like something one could avoid, but John had done a good job up until then. 

It was safe to say Roger knew enough about John to be able to be bluntly honest with him.

After their first time, when they were lying together in John’s bed, he had tried to persuade him to seek other options. John was a good man and didn’t deserve his reputation to be smeared by getting involved with a fae. He could find somebody else, somebody more suitable. There were other ways to help him sleep. 

John didn’t need Roger in his life and he tried his damnedest to get him to see that. 

All his words went out the window however as John showed very little care for his own well being. Roger tried to keep him at bay once again. He wouldn’t call their night together with a mistake because no matter how ill-minded it was, he didn’t regret it one bit. Having someone want him the way John did was exceptional but Roger couldn’t allow it to go to his head. 

He had to remember his place in this world. 

Problem was, John didn’t believe in places. He didn’t believe there should be a social construct. He saw people as people and while he accepted their obvious differences, it made very little sense to him as to why someone with wings, or horns, or hooves had less to offer someone without. 

All Roger could do was shake his head and call him a stupid mortal. A silly man with silly thoughts that was going to throw away any normal future just so he could continue to see someone not worth the contract he had. 

John silenced his arguing with a kiss and that alone was enough to shut Roger up permanently. The realization that this may never actually work would forever eat away at the blond but the way John looked at him and how gently he touched him was more than enough to distract those itching thoughts. 

It was different every time with John. Sometimes it would be slow. 

They would lay in bed together, wrapped up in the blanket or sheet or just the warmth of each other. Kisses would be exchanged and soft touches would be made. Roger had gotten quite familiar with the pattern of John’s chest, the hardness of his shoulder blades and the fine curve of his jawline. 

He learned how sensitive the mortal was by his neck and ears and would spend a pleasure-filled afternoon trailing along with kisses and leaving soft nibbles along his skin.

Roger had never been the possessive type. Never believed himself to be entitled to anything, but the more time he spent with John and the way he saw the other ladies of the house look his way when he’d come and go had Roger practically growling. 

John was a pleasant man of decent wealth. It came as no surprise to Roger that someone would want to claim him for their own. Roger had made it clear that he wasn’t one who liked to share and promptly marked John any place he could in hopes of keeping any potential suitors away.

It was a thought deep inside Roger’s mind, one that he tried to push down every time they were together, that one day John would stop coming to Garden Lodge. That he would find somebody else to ease his insomnia and keep him entertained. It was a large possibility; one that Roger had tried to point out when all of this began, but John rebuffed him. 

Just as they could be slow and soft, John swiftly proved that they could also be rough, and tough, and hard. In between the sweet and almost loving caresses came the tight grips and heavy thrusting. 

  
Roger’s bedroom was small, but they used that to their advantage as they took turns fucking and being fucked. It wasn’t long until Roger was bent forward against his vanity with John pressed behind him; those deft hands holding his hips as he pushed in deeper and deeper. 

Roger was quick to show John the perk of being physical with a winged creature as holding him in the air as he fucked him against the nearby wall had become one of their most favorite positions. 

John had become rather accustomed to making love to a fae and learned first hand just how wonderful it could be. From the easily recharged bundle of energy, Roger had in the bedroom to the way his wings would shimmer and glow as he worked through his orgasm. Sleeping had become easy for both of them, even without the assistance of Roger’s singing. 

He kept it up, though John had stopped paying by this point. He still worked for Mary as she was the holder of his contract, but the blond made it very clear he had no intentions of sleeping with any client, how to matter how much they offered. The woman was bitter about it but was decent enough not to force such a thing onto him. 

He continued to run errands and kept a watchful eye on the men that visited Garden Lodge, though would be welcomed to retire whenever John would pop in. He had even left the place a time or two to spend the evening at John’s own home. He had never been by that section of the city before, having stayed on the Row for the entirety of his life there. 

The sound of the trains was more soothing than he imagined they would be. John had apologized endlessly, though John paid him no mind. He got used to the sound over time and found that the blaring horns and rattling of wheels was something he could slumber through. 

John had welcomed Roger into his home easily, showing him where the spare key was in case he ever wanted or needed a place to go and John was not there to allow him in. It was frightening how easy it could be. How comfortable they could make themselves. It felt so natural and right that Roger found himself wondering if this was all some sort of dream that he had yet to wake up from. 

He would sit in John’s bay window, overlooking the city and all the beautiful lights. He would slowly spin his musical crank, his lips breaking into a smile as the mortal came up to wrap his arms around him from behind. Roger had never been touched starved until John came along and he found that being in his arms was something he wouldn’t want to give up easily. 

“You never told me the name of this song,” John whispered to him, his chin going to rest on Roger’s shoulder. 

It wasn’t the name of the song that mattered much to him. Roger’s kind had many songs and many titles though it was the lyrics and who sang them that mattered most. Roger explained that it was just a lullaby that his mother used to sing to him when they were young. Back when things weren’t horrible and the fae lived in moderate peace. 

The lyrics changed depending on each person who sang it. From mother to son, they sang about their child. From husband to wife, they sang about their love. Roger knew many different versions though the melody always stayed the same. 

“Sing it to me?” John requested softly. 

It was late and they could both use some sleep but John remained awake as Roger’s sweet voice filled the room. 

_“I’ll fly for you. My love my life, sweet dreams to you. My only one. Lora lie lo, lora lie lo. My love, my life, lie lo.”_

Roger had no intentions of falling in love with John, but he above everyone else was well aware that sometimes things did not go as you had thought they first would. He tried to convince himself that it was merely sexual, but that went out the window the moment John showed up to Garden Lodge with flowers in hopes of taking him out. 

Roger had never been courted before. Never had anybody interested in being more than just a pretty body in his bed or on his arm. John was proving to be far different from the rest of the people Roger had been involved with. 

It was Anita who had convinced him to go. The nymph, despite being a thorn in his side most of the time, was utterly in love with being in love and wanted everybody around her to feel the same. She had dragged Roger out of Garden Lodge after insisting that they put on their best clothes so that their lovers could take him out. 

Being on a double date with Anita and her doctor boyfriend wasn’t something Roger ever expected to do, but the night wasn’t the complete disaster he had expected it to be. Due to the ongoing affair between Brian and Anita, they had to go to a place no one would know of him. There were a few places just beyond that Row that would accept mythical’s and mortals alike. 

The group sat together, spending the evening drinking and eating, laughing about old stories that they could share. It seemed so normal and natural that Roger almost forgot his place a time or two. John had come off as a shy thing, but when the moment called for it, he didn’t turn his cheek at showing affection. He sat beside John, with his hand on his lap or along his shoulder. They were a tad bit more subtle than Anita and Brian, who were practically on top of each other the whole night until the nymph demanded that the man give her a spin on the dance floor. 

John had mentioned a time or two that he enjoyed dancing, so Roger decided to bite the bullet and ask him to dance. John agreed and the two took to the dance floor. The blond wasn’t much of a dancer. He enjoyed music and liked singing, but aside from that he preferred using his body for other things. John, however, was natural. He took to the floor without worry and Roger just followed his lead. 

After a short while, Roger found himself enjoying the moment, his wings flapping and fluttering to the beat as they spun around the dance floor to whatever song was playing. 

Anita had insisted that Roger and John join them again, though the next time John took him out, it was for something completely different. 

It seemed his boyfriend was a bit of an inventor in his free time and recently sold a brand new amplifier to the cities opera house. Apparently, it worked so well that the house was eternally grateful to the man and allowed him to have seats free of cost for any show he wished. There was a new performer coming that John heard wonders about and wanted to take Roger with him as his date. 

It was a terrifying idea, being out in public with John. They had gone on smaller dates before, along the Row and in the privacy of John’s own home, but this was far different. The opera house was as high-class as one could get in the city and only those of pure blood were welcomed. 

Roger was certain that he would not be able to handle the shame if he had been turned away so when the night came, he did something he swore he would never do again.

He picked out the smartest clothes he owned, trimmed his chair, and put on the wing-binder Mary had given him and went off to the opera house. John was shocked, to say the least. The binder was used to fold his wings in tightly against his back. It wasn’t painful, though mildly uncomfortable. It allowed him to walk down the street and look like any normal mortal.

Mary had given it to him as a gift in hopes of making him stay a little easier though Roger rarely used it. At times when he’d have to go to places that his kind was not welcome, it was a must though he mostly kept it in his dresser, tucked away until they need to pretend came along. 

This was one of those times and as he approached John, he tried to keep a happy face. He smiled brightly, commenting on how nice John looked. He always presented himself in a professional manner through on this night he outdid himself. His hair was brushed back and his face was clean. His shoes were polished and his jacket was pressed. John looked like an absolute dream and Roger hoped he could pull off even half of that. 

John tried to insist that Roger didn’t have to do all of this. That he wouldn’t have allowed them to turn him away, but all the fae could do was kiss him. For one night he wanted them to seem like every other couple walking the streets and if that meant tightening the binder around himself, then it was worth it. 

Taking John’s arm, they walked in together. The opera house was magnificent, to say the least. Beautiful paintings on the walls and a chandelier hanging up on the ceiling. All the men were wearing tuxedos and all the women were in jewels and gowns. Roger did not belong there, fae or not, though he kept his chin up high. He could pretend for one single night. 

Halfway through they stumbled upon Brian and someone who was definitely not Anita. The woman was blonde and lovely, though she did not smile the way that bubbly nymph did when she was around Brian. Nor did Brian look as comfortable and content as he had that night in the dingy pub past the Row. 

Despite being in his own atmosphere, Brian looked as though he too was having to play pretend. Keeping his pleasant wife on his arm while exchange niceties with those around him. The couple only exchanged a few words before going their separate ways. John had mentioned that while the marriage between Brian and Chrissie wasn’t arranged, it was more one expected of him. Marry someone in high society and carry on that pure bloodline. They had three children that Brian adored and showed off, but it was obvious where his heart truly laid. 

Upon taking their seats, Roger looked over the program, hoping to learn a bit more about the performer they came to see. He only got to his name, Freddie Mercury before the lights dimmed and the show began. 

Roger’s stomach dropped suddenly as the man of the hour took the stage, fluttering down in jewels and gems, sparkling brighter than any diamond. He had no idea that the person they were coming to see was of Pixie blood and it seemed John was just as surprised. 

Roger was baffled at how they could ban his kind from entering only to have someone of the same breed perform on the stage to a sold-out show. It seemed the man was rather popular in spite of his fae heritage but then again, it seemed to be a selling point for him. He showed off all his outfits and his glittering wings as he sang his heart out. 

The man was a showman through and through and Roger was left speechless throughout the entire performance. There was something about the fae, in the way he carried himself as if he was so high above it all while also thanking everyone who came to see him that tickled something in Roger’s mind. 

He chose not to question it and just enjoyed the show; finding himself more and more impressed as the night went on. So much so that he had forgotten all about the binder and the obvious discrimination in favor of falling completely into the masterpiece of Freddie Mercury’s work. 

When it was over and he had been given his standing ovation, John whispered to Roger, asking if he wanted to meet the man. Roger could barely say a word; he bobbed his head and followed the brunet backstage. 

Mr. Mercury was fussing around, commenting about this and that, shaking off his jacket and let his wings stretch out behind him. His scowl turned into a great smile when he was introduced to John and pulled the man in for a kiss on the cheek and a repeated row of thanks for the sound quality. 

“Truly, aside from myself, the sound was the only non-disaster of the whole show!” He insisted flippantly. 

It was the way he held himself, with his hands on his hips and pout on his lips that caught Roger’s attention. He moved forward, the name leaving his lips before he could stop himself. “Farrokh?” 

The name seemed to catch the other fae off guard and after a pregnant beat, the realization came over the performer's eyes. “Roger?” 

Both pushed forward, pulling one another in for a tight embrace. Freddie was the first to push away, his eyes widening as he looking over Roger’s frame. “Where are your-” 

“Still here! Just a binder is all.” Roger insisted. 

“Do you two know each other?” John questioned from beside them. His tone wasn’t heated though Roger could see that there was more curiosity in his gaze. 

They had been open and honest about their pasts. Roger found that with John he had nothing to hide and told him about the former lovers he once had. He never named any of them, but there had been men and female among the lot. 

Freddie, however, was not one of them. The love the blond had for the man was platonic in the sincerest of ways. 

“Perhaps not as well as you do, but yes,” Freddie mentioned, giving Roger a squeeze on the shoulder. 

After explaining the situation, Freddie whisked Roger away to his dress room. John hoped to speak with the theater manager and promised to find him later. Alone in his room, Roger and Freddie spoke about everything that has happened since they last partner.

From working at the brothel to using his talent to rise up the ranks in the performing arts. He made a name for himself, changing everything about himself while also refusing to downplay his Pix bloodline. 

“Its who I am, Roger. I couldn’t be Freddie Mercury if I ignored that part of myself. People may not like it, but that’s their loss.” 

“I had to bind myself to be allowed in here.” 

“Terrible. I told those bastards I don’t play for segregated theaters. I don’t believe in social separation.” 

“How long are you staying for?” Roger inquired.

Freddie leaned into the side of the couch, offering a boyish smile that brought Roger back to the days when they used to run amuck in their village. “I live here, darling. My world tour just finished and I’m looking forward to some downtime.” 

There was a knock on the door then, and John popped his head inside politely. “I’m ready whenever you are, Roge.” He mentioned softly.

“I’ll just be a moment,” Roger promised. 

When the door closed again, Freddie was looking at Roger like he was the catch that caught the fish and the canary. “That’s a lovely man you have there, Roger.” 

“He is.” Roger sighed, his fingers toying with the lines on his pant. “And I do have him for as long as I can.”

“We’re refugees, Roger. We don’t ask for much other than to survive. May I offer some advice as an old friend?” When Roger bobbed his head, Freddie’s smile widened to an impeccable degree. “Be selfish. I am every day and I’m as happy as clover in the breeze.” 

Roger couldn’t help but laugh. Even with the money and fame, Freddie was still the same old fae that Roger knew and loved. The same one who would fly across the grass and skim his fingers through the seas.

Having Freddie back brought a sense of relief to Roger and as he hugged his old friend goodbye, he left with the promise to see him again soon. 

John was sitting in the hallway, giving Roger the privacy he needed. Roger didn’t hesitate to take his hand as they made their way out. The night was young enough and he offered a few possibilities of what they could do with their time before it had to come to an end. 

John listened to all the choices, though it was obvious he had other plans for the fae. Plans that involved taking Roger back to his home and straddling him on the floor of his bedroom. 

It was a magnificent sight, seeing John like that. His hips moved to their own beat, turning and pushing as he took Roger’s cock deeper and deeper inside of him. His mouth ajar as he moved with his hands sprawled out flat against Roger’s pale chest.

Roger kept himself arched, his wings free from the binder and spreading behind him as the dim moonlight from the window cascaded over them. The room was filled with glimmers and shimmers, turning the walls and their nude bodies to technicolor. 

The brunet was getting closer, but the blond found himself wanting more at this moment. Roger pushed himself upward, allowing the quick fluttering of his wings to lift from them the ground. He used his strength to keep his body arched, keeping them mid-air as John rode through his orgasm. He continued to fly as his own peak took over, the room brightening as his wings glowed from the pleasure. 

They laid together in John’s bed when they finished; with Roger laying flat against John’s chest. The electrician's fingers ran smooth circles along Roger’s spine, in the space between his wings. He held him with so much contentment that it almost frightened the fae. 

This was no longer some grand adventure the two would go on. It was a dangerous game that neither knew how to play, but had very little intentions of losing. John had confessed to him that he didn’t do a single treacherous thing until Roger came into his life and he wouldn’t have changed it for the world. 

Roger did not know what this world held for himself and for John, but he found that having this wonderful man by his side, holding him close, it made the unknown a bit more bearable. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HHobCyXJONY <== The song Roger sings to John
> 
> Also where I got the title of the fic from. 
> 
> Two more to go children...


	5. Fife

John knew better than to believe that all good things could last. They never did. He knew this as a fact. His parent's happy marriage and the wonderful life he had with his family went up in flames the day they lost his father. The comfortable life he had gotten used to went out the window the moment Roger stepped into his life. And the peace that had been ever so out of reach was ripped from the city before anybody could make a move. 

The chancellor was not a terrible person, but it was quite obvious that the man knew very little about what to do with the refugees coming from the land over yonder. They had tried their best to keep tensions low, but the moment their men failed to return, the mortal born people could not risk losing any more.

They tried their best to limit who came and who went. It was a good idea filled with even better intentions by having the fae folk have contracts. In the eyes of some, it seemed more like a lighter version of slavery, but in the end, it wasn’t meant to be hurtful, but rather keep the seedy folk at bay. 

It worked for a while, but the bastards fell through the cracks. Some things just could not be helped and while there would always be bad in the circle of good, it was all about who you looked after. And the chancellor made it very clear that at the end of the day, he looked after his people first. No one could blame him, but his voice in the matter was allowing innocent fae folk who just wanted a better life to be hurt.

And the hurting only continued when news broke out in the morning that due to recent events, that include the rise of crime and population, parliament had taken a vote on whether or not to open the border further. Word on the street was the decision was almost unanimous. Rather than welcome anymore in, the city has decided to instead go the opposite route. 

Anybody without a current visa would be taken into custody and all businesses could only hold three to five fae contracts at a time. They reasoned that the only way to keep the city safe was to keep the mortals from being outnumbered. 

The less fae working meant more jobs for mortal people. The rise in the economy was something the chancellor had promised and it seemed this was the only way to do it. 

For those opposed to the fae, this was fantastic. It wasn’t an all-out ban, but it would mean keeping the power structure on their side. Those who were able to stay would be the hard-working people that wouldn’t do anything to risk losing their contract. 

In the eyes of parliament, it was a win for both sides. 

And in the eyes of the fae, it was a death sentence. Most were owned by the same person; wealthy families that took on fae folk as servants or to run their businesses along the Row. Now the number could be cut down so significantly. Families were to be torn apart. Businesses would be shut down. 

This decision was going to turn the city upside down though John couldn’t care about any of that. The only thing he could think of was Roger. 

Word had gotten out quickly and by late afternoon, the police had already begun going to businesses to collect the unkept contracts. While they weren’t be sent back automatically, those who had not been kept by their contract holder were forcibly removed from their homes and being kept in another location until further notice. Where that location was, nobody knew just yet. 

John had heard all of this while on a job. He had just finished working on another one of his inventions, a four-string sitar that had something of a bellowing sound to it when two of the factory workers burst into the room to speak of the news. 

Some were bragging about the decision while others went off to warn the fae folk who worked alongside them. John had barely been listening, as he wasn’t the nosy type, but when he caught sight of the paper in the man’s hands, he had to take a gander. 

He read quickly, gathering up enough information to understand that situation. He took off after that, leaving the instrument behind as he sprinted out of the factory. It was quite a trek, heading down to the Row and on top of the regular traffic and the obvious commotion brought on by the decision, it took even longer. 

He had been Roger just the night before after the blond had left his flat. He had begun to pester the fae in hopes of persuading him to stay at his place permanently. It just seemed silly in his eyes, both of them coming and going when they could remain in one single place. John knew his flat wasn’t enough, but it was better than the brothel. They were guaranteed more privacy and being away from the Row allowed them each a sense of normalcy. 

Roger refused, though he swore it wasn’t his own doing. Mary had already been kind enough to not force him to take on clients, no matter how much they offered. He did not want to upset her buttons by leaving the only home he had ever been given. 

Things had been too good for too long, John should have known that none of it would have been able to last. The domestic bliss that Roger and he shared was nothing more than a dream that both would wake from any moment. 

The brothel was empty, but the doors were open when John arrived. The place that was usually filled with people and music was all too bare and quiet. He was panting as he stumbled through the door, searching desperately for Mary. When she came down the stairs, he jumped her, giving her a freight in the process.

“How much?” He demanded outright. “How much for Roger’s contract?” 

John swore that he would never buy a fae. Not because he didn’t want to be associated with them, but rather he did not see them as something to purchase. They were not pets, but people. They deserved their freedom, just as he did. 

But it was obvious that nobody else saw this and while he may not have liked it, John knew the desperate times called for desperate measures. He would make it up to Roger; promising that no matter what the paper said, that he would be free to himself and was welcome to come and go as he pleased. 

“John.” Mary began slowly. 

“I’ll pay whatever you want.” He insisted. He had saved up quite a lot over the years. The rent on his flat wasn’t much and he didn’t even splurge on things. He lived off of toast and cheese and rarely bought himself something nice to wear. 

He would give up every single pound if it meant keeping Roger from being sent back. 

“John,” Mary repeated. 

“Just name your price, Mary!” John snapped loudly. “Whatever it is, I’ll pay for it!” 

“It’s too late, John!” Mary announced and suddenly the already quiet room became so much more silent. “It’s too late.” 

John stumbled back and for a moment, he thought he would fall right to the floor as the wind was suddenly knocked from his lungs. 

“They came this morning while the girls slept. They told me I had to choose. I had eleven contracts John and I had to choose three. It was like choosing children. John, they left me with no choice!” 

“We all have a choice, Mary,” John replied dryly, his stomach tightening as the realization hit him. “Where did they take him?” 

“I don’t know,” Mary answered honestly. “They just . . . rounded up the contracts I didn’t keep.”

“They’re more than bloody contracts, Mary. They’re people. Just like you. Just like me. Being a mythical creature doesn’t make them any less.” 

John fled from Garden Lodge, believing that it would be the very last time he ever saw the establishment. He was left without any ideas or clues on where to go. No one knew where the fae was being held or what exactly they were doing with him. Would they be sent right back to land where the war raged on or would there be an alternative? 

Would John be able to purchase Roger’s contract after he had already been deported? He had so much to think about and it seemed like time just wasn’t one his side. He went around, asking everybody that he could. No one knew a thing, no one saw a thing. It was as if the police and the fae disappeared in a bit of smoke. 

John was beginning to lose hope. How was he supposed to find the man when no one was willing to go against the chancellor or the police. The people in the city were so damn God-fearing that they would turn their nose up at someone just trying to do some good just so they wouldn’t be seen as an associate of the act. 

He had gone up and down the Row searching for Roger, hoping that perhaps he had managed to avoid capture though he hadn’t been so lucky. The Row itself had become somewhat of a battleground, with the fae rioting in response to the new law. Businesses were being broken into, fights were going on in the street. Women were being attacked and men were left bleeding. 

John tried to pass it all, but he was just a man with a bleeding heart, so when a woman and her child were scurrying by, he offered assistance to keep them from harm's way. It seemed she was on the run and needed to get out of the city though no place was safe as of late. Accepting his help, she led John to the dimly lit pub that he and Roger had frequented time and again. 

One would think this would be the first place the police would check, but that was what the world wanted you to think. After all, why would the fae hide right out in the open? John escorted her inside, making sure she and the young boy were hidden behind closed doors before making his way out. 

A familiar face had him stopping in his tracks and to his surprise; the nymph seemed happy to see him. Anita rushed over, throwing her arms around John for a much-needed embrace. John returned the sentiment, holding her against him for a brief moment. When he pulled away, he followed her deeper into the pub, off into the corner so they could speak alone. 

She told him about how the police came with the warrant and forced Mary to choose her three contracts. There were too many officers for any of them to slip away so when the three were chosen, the rest were taken away and Roger was among the group. 

“I don’t know where they took them.” She admitted. “I wasn’t with them for long.”

“How did you escape?” 

“I didn’t,” Anita confessed quietly. “Brian arrived and bought my contract. It seemed any of the faes who don’t have a criminal record are being auctioned off. Brian bought mine out of pocket. He told me to wait here until we could leave.” She reached out then, her hand gripping his forearm tightly. “He left his family for me. John. Paid the highest price for my contract and now we’re going to run away together.” 

In any other world, John would have found that to be the least bit romantic, though right no all he could do was suffer. Brian made a choice that would destroy everything. His happy life, his comfortable marriage, and his reputation altogether. John had never expected the man to do such a thing, but then again, love made you do crazy things. 

“I have to find him, Anita. Do you have any idea where this auction could be held?” 

The petite woman shook her head, looking completely unsure in anything other than her plans. “City hall perhaps, but that is a long shot.” She suggested. 

It was more than John had to go on. Squeezing her hand in his own, John left Anita in the corner, pausing only so she could give him a work of luck. Repeating it back to her, the man hurried out of the pub and back out onto the street. 

John swiftly found that no place in the city was safe. Not the Row or the middle section where he lived, nor did it get better the further uptown you went. It was easy to see that war was breaking out among the fae and the mortals, leading the police to arrest anybody who stepped out of line. 

John had gotten quite used to following orders and keeping out of trouble that he easily escaped view from most people. He wasn’t noticeable to any on a normal afternoon; when hell was breaking loose around him, John was practically invisible. 

It worked to his advantage as he got closer to city hall, though John never got the chance to make it there. Just as he turned the corner, swiftly side-stepping to avoid a group of gentleman running from that direction, the explosion went off. 

His ears buzzed sharply as the ground shook beneath his feet and before he could react, another came about. Cars were on fire and chaos ran amuck. People were shouting, and crying, and screaming. John felt himself grow dizzy but it was the fallen debris that did him in; striking him on the head, forcing him to the ground and knocking him out cold as the war around him raged on. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, do you hate me yet?


	6. Sith

Roger knew very little of what to expect from the mortal land when he first arrived. He was leaving behind everything he had ever known, making the trip over only once he was given access after gaining his contract. The idea of being purchased, of being owned, like he was a dog in the pound disguised Roger greatly but he had no little choice. There were only so many places a fae could go.

He knew people would be against him and he was ready for that. He didn’t come to this land with hopes and dreams of a better life. He knew what he was doing: picking the lesser of the two evils. He could die in the place he was born or he could put up with the discriminations and injustices for as long as they’d last. 

He took the latter, allowing the smallest amount of hope to flicker inside of him that perhaps he made the right choice. Hope was a dangerous thing to have, especially in times like these and for as long as he could remember Roger kept that hope at arm's length. 

Until now at least. 

Until John Deacon walked into his life and offered him things he never thought he’d have in this world. He gave Roger a home to call their own and a warm bed to sleep in. Strong arms that would wrap around him and a gentle voice to whisper things into his ear. He offered Roger love, something he did not believe himself to be worthy of and more importantly, he offered Roger hope.

A hope stronger than the one he had arrived with. One that would surely get him killed one day.

When the announcement had been made Roger was too busy at work to be aware of it. He didn’t listen to the radio or watch tv as he folded the laundry. He stood up high in his room, singing softly as he folded the pieces neatly into the basket. He was awake and refreshed, having spent the night with John. They had gone on a small date; having supper by the train road before returning to John’s flat. 

They stayed together throughout the night, taking their time as they rolled in the sheets, making slow, sweet love to one another. John was a delicately form lover who knew Roger in complete awe after every session. He used those deft fingers to play Roger like a fiddle just as the blond in turn used that wonderful mouth of his to bring John closer to the edge. 

He hadn’t been with many people but the fae knew a thing or two on how to get a lover off. He wanted to prove his worth to John, and show him how much he could offer, so when the time came, he went buck wild. 

He let the brunet fuck his throat before Roger switched the position and fucked John with his fingers and tongue, eating him out until he was left panting and wailing on the bed.

Roger took great pride in getting his boyfriend off; in driving him absolutely bonkers as no one else could. The night ended with them huddled together on John’s bed; a place they for so perfectly it seemed almost too good to be true. 

Looking back now Roger realized that’s exactly what it was. 

Things had been going too well for far too long that sooner or later something was gonna have to give. And when it did there was no going back. 

Roger walked down, laundry basket in hand when the police began the raid. Nobody had a choice. All those who had been not chosen were to be held until further notice. Roger tried to getaway. Laundry was forgotten, he hurried out of the house but only made it halfway down the Row before he was captured. 

They took him and many others, throwing them all into the back of an unmarked van and drove them out of sight. They wouldn’t answer questions, wouldn’t speak other than shouting orders. The fae was to be quaint and quiet. They were told to listen and do as they were told even if they had very little understanding of what was happening. 

Roger tried to fight because it was in his nature. Not as a fae but in a hot-headed man. It only caused more trouble as the police had no trouble raising a hand to any fae that got out of line. Roger was given a bruised cheek, busted wing, and the promise that if he didn’t act right there would be no alternate choice for him. 

They would throw him in jail or worse and seeing as there was already a population issue, Roger knew better than to call their bluff. So he bit his tongue and sat quietly in the corner and waited. 

And waited and waited and waited for something to happen. Anything to happen. Eventually, the talk got around and it was revealed that those whose contracts had been sold were going to be held for an audition. Any person who owned less than three faes were given the chance to buy them off. All those who were not purchased were to be sent back to their homeland. And their fate would be up to them after that. 

Roger didn’t know what to do. He could either be sold off to the highest bidder or forced back into that wasteland of a world. He didn’t know anybody who would buy him. He did laundry and kept brutish men in line at a whorehouse. Other than that he was useless. 

The only person he knew that would be willing to lay down the funds would be John but he had no way of getting in contact with him. No way to send him a message so he could come down and get hold of his contract. Roger didn’t want to be owned, didn’t believe he should have had to be, but he knew the laws of the land and until the worlds could co-exist in harmony, he’d follow them if it meant keeping his head. 

Despite it only being a few hours, being locked away in the detention center felt like years to Roger. There were women and children and men alike, all of the different types of fae folk. Fauns, and pixies, and trolls, and nymphs, and everything in between. People who had been sold and taken from their homes without a single care. 

Time and again a name would be called out and someone would be removed from the locked off cell they were kept in. Roger didn’t know if this meant the person’s contract had been purchased or if they had been selected to be shipped off, but it only caused more distress among those being kept. 

Roger was sitting in the corner of the cell, turning his music crank slowly. It had been damaged in the wake up his scuffle and no longer played the sweet song he knew so well. He was sure there was a metaphor somewhere in the destruction but Roger just didn’t have the energy to process it fully. 

When his name was called, he was grabbed before he could react. He was pulled from the cell with no idea what awaited him but when he caught sight of a familiar face, that small glimmer of hope lingering deep inside his belly began to rise. 

Freddie stood, with his sparkling wings stretched out and impeccable sense of style causing him to stick out among the blacks, blues, and grays of the uniforms. 

“What’s going on?” Roger asked him, noticing the paper in Freddie’s hand. 

“Mary called me after you were taken. She was devastated, Roger. Truly she was.” He explained woefully. “Did you take anything with you?” 

“Didn’t get the chance.” 

“Never the matter. We’ll get your things later.” 

Roger stepped closer, lowering his voice slightly as his eyes darted around the room. “What’s going on, Fred?” 

“I purchased your contract darling.” The dark-haired fae confessed. “This place is going up in flames and I refuse to allow anyone I care for to have to suffer through it.” 

“How is that possible?” 

“I’ve been the holder of my own contract for some time now, Roge. Freedom is a high price to pay, but it’s worth it.” Freddie lifted the contract, the thing keeping Roger in this land and the only thing holding him from being sent back. “The moment we leave this place, I’ll sign it over to you. Free of charge. My gift to you for our friendship.” 

While the idea of being the holder of his own contract was more than Roger could ever imagine, it was the idea of leaving that caught him off guard. “Where are we going?” 

“North,” Freddie revealed. “As far as we can go. This land is no longer safe and until these mortals figure out their own issues, there is no place for us here.” 

“I have to find John,” Roger told him outright. “I can’t just leave.” 

“We must make haste. Things are getting more treacherous by the hour.”

Following Freddie out, Roger gave him the location of John’s flat. He had very little idea of where he could be. He had no idea how long they kept him locked away for. John could be any way at this point, but starting at his home was the best Roger could imagine. 

The traffic was more than they were used to; the never-ending hustle and bustle of the city had multiple due to the commotion brought on by parliament decision. Eventually, everything came to a dead stop. No cars, no people. They were just sitting on the road with nowhere to go. 

Roger was itching in his seat, unable to keep himself from jittering. After a while of not moving, it seemed Freddie had enough and forced the door open, ignoring the driver as he hopped out. Roger followed, having no reason not to as they went to the front line where a group of people was standing and waiting.

Police had blocked off the streets, refusing to allow anyone through. Murmurs went through the crowd and talk of an explosion uptown was being mentioned. Roger had no clue of their current location but hadn’t heard any bomb go off while locked away. 

People were shouting, all trying to get through to return home or head out like Roger and Freddie. “Nobody is going anywhere!” An officer shouted.

“There has to be another way around,” Roger mumbled, tugging on Freddie’s sleeve so they could cut down an alleyway. He knew the streets well enough and figured if they continued to dodge and slip this way and that way, they’d be able to get along the edge of the town or least cut passed all the security. 

Roger was just beginning to recognized the street names and just as he and Fred turned the corner, they walked right into a full-fledged riot. Men were fighting, some on the ground bleeding. Police was trying to break it apart while also forcing those participating against the ground, handcuffing them and keeping them at bay.

Roger turned his head at the sound of his name being called and he turned to see Jim Beach waving them into his shop. He closed the door once the three were inside and Roger turned, questioning what was going on, but he didn’t get a direct answer. 

“You two have to get out of here. Fae’s are being deported as we speak.” He revealed in a quick, rushed tone. 

“Freddie has our contracts.” 

“Fuck the contracts! They’re sending them back by boat, owned or not. A bloody war is going on.” 

“The chancellor just ruled-”

“The chancellors dead!” Jim snapped, shuttering as the sound of people screaming echoed in the distance. “Nobody knows who did it. Fae or mortal. It doesn’t matter anymore. All fae are being forcibly removed and the city is on lockdown.” 

“If the whole place is locked down, how the fuck are we supposed to make our escape?” Freddie demanded. 

“A freight train leaves at midnight. I’m getting on it. I advice you to hide out and do the same.” 

“They won’t check it?” Roger wondered. 

Freddie scoffed, sending a glare towards Jim. “What does it matter? He’s a mortal. They won’t arrest him for leaving his own land.” 

“They would arrest me for housing the two of you.” Jim pointed out. “And for informing you of the train. It’s a business locomotive. It has to leave regardless of a lockdown or not.” 

“It’s nearly sundown. That leaves us five hours before it leaves.” The blond commented. 

The waiting around would be horrible, but it was better than being forced back out onto the street. 

“You’re welcome to stay here or hide out in the back.” 

Freddie sighed deeply, moving deeper into the shop. Roger moved forward then, close to Jim so they could speak privately. “I have to ask you a favor.” 

XX

It wasn’t the pain that John felt first, though that was sharp enough for his senses to pick up. The mild confusion that course through his mind was easily distracting but it was the realization that he was alive that had him waking in the first place. He opened his eyes, finding himself in the corner of a dusty alleyway. Who had pulled him from the streets was unknown though he doubts they did it out of kindness. Chances were they thought him to be one of the dead and just wanted the body out of sight. 

He rose slowly, ignoring the aches and pains that came from the hit. The ground was covered in soot and rubble. Cars were overturned and there were other bodies lying among the wreckage. Police were whipping boy in their cans, the loud alarm echoing through the streets. Townhall was gone, blown to pieces in what seemed to be a terrorist attack. 

John tried to seek out answers but nobody would say a thing. People were running up and down the streets, looting any business they could all while avoiding police capture. John was left unsure of where to go or what to do. The city was in shambles and he was left utterly clueless. 

He walked through the streets with blood on his clothes and dust on his coat. Searching for Roger was like searching for an apparition. He could be in plain sight or maybe he just wasn’t even there at all. Maybe he was just too late. 

John made his way back down to his home, feeling bewildered and defeated. He had to come up with a new plan of action, even if that meant packing up his things and taking the first ship back to the land of the fae. It was a war zone but so was his own city. He would search the round high and low if it meant finding Roger. 

John has just made it to his door when he heard his name being spoken. He turned, finding Anita sitting among the shadows. Her dress was torn and her hair was removed from its normal kept style. Gone were the jewels she once wore and showed off. She has dust on her cheeks and her eyes were red from tears she had obviously cried. 

“I’m sorry.” She spoke, stepping into the falling light. “I had nowhere else to go.” 

Once inside, John led the nymph to the chair in the kitchen, passing her a glass of water as she spoke her tale. Brian never came for her as promised. John suspected that the doctor skipped down with his family and left Anita to her own devices but it appeared the truth was far harsher. 

“His wife found out about us and our plans. She turned him over to the police.” The blonde confessed. “She swore to never reveal his secret but she was so angry. I would be too, but what she did . . . John, it’s unforgivable.” 

“Why would they arrest him for buying your contract?” 

“It's not that John,” 

It seemed that on top of being a wonderful doctor that Brian was also a great pretender. He hides his origins well enough, having been raised in high society his whole life. Anita revealed that Brian was a half-breed. His mother a faun and his father a mortal. Upon his birth, his father renounced his mythical blood and had the horns cut from Brian’s head. He was raised knowing the truth, something that only his wife had known about. When it was revealed that the chancellor had been assassinated and all fae folk was to be deported immediately, Brian wife informed the authorities of her husband's heritage. 

It was an awful, bitter thing to do and now Anita was left without any guidance. Brian had been captured and forced onto one of the dozens of ships that were being sent off to the mythical’s homeland. A place the man had never even stepped for on, as he was born and raised in this very city. 

“I have no one else, John. I have nothing else. He was everything to me and now he’s gone,”

“He could still be here. I have hope that I can find Roger, just as you can find Brian.”

“Daylight is gone, John. Faes are being ripped from their homes and being sent to a war-torn land.” Anita shivered then, standing from her seat. “I should go.” 

“Go where?”

“I should surrender. If I give myself up and they send me back then I’ll be able to find him surely.” 

“You don’t know that, Anita. You can’t just give up.”

“Well, what other choice do I have?!”

She was shouting then, sounding slightly historical though John did not blame her. Tensions were high and no one knew what to do. The smell of desperation was in the air and it was obvious that Anita was choking on it. 

A knock on the door caught them both off guard. Anita looked like a scared child just wanting to be held while John tried to hold his chin up high. He told her to go into his room and stay here though she didn’t move a muscle. He went to the door, opening it slightly so he could see who was on the other side.

“Jim?” 

“Are you alone?” The dark-haired man asked. 

“Are you?” 

“I am though I come with word from Roger.” 

“Roger?” John steppes the door allowing Jim to slip inside. “Is he still here? Have they sent him off yet?” 

“Not yet. He and another are hiding out in my shop, trying to avoid the carnage.” 

“Is it Brian?” Anita whispered quietly. 

Jim shook his head, offering an apologetic glance. “No. I haven’t seen the doctor. This one is the singer on all the posters.” 

He went onto explain the situation, how they were hiding out until the final train left. He planned on sneaking them and any other fae they could find on. Once they were out of the city they would be safe to go anywhere they could. 

“Oadby. Out in the country. I grew up there. No place is safer.” John informed the butcher. “It would take several days, but it’s as far from the city as you could get.” 

“We have no other choice. With the Row gone my business is over.”

“John, I don’t have my contract,” Anita said from the corner. “Brian has everything. I have nothing of my own.” 

“No point in worrying about that anymore, lass. Once you’re out of the city you can be as free as a bird.” Jim mentioned. 

“When does the final train leave?”

“Midnight.” He answered. 

John checked the time, realizing that it was dwindling down faster than expected. “I’m going with you to get him.” 

“It’s not safe.” 

“No place is. Anita, Jim and I will return. Stay here. And if by any chance that we do not return you run across the street and get in that train.”

“But Brian-”

“Brian would want you to survive.” John insisted. “This is your chance. The choice is yours but you have to make it soon.” 

Grabbing his coat, John followed Jim out of the flat and back out onto the street. 

XX

Roger didn’t remember the last time he had been in so much pain. He had played roughly as a child, fighting the other children in school or on the rugby team. His kind was known for being delicate and sweet, but they were so much more than that. They could put up a fight like anyone else. 

And that was exactly what Roger did. 

When push came to shove, he fought tooth and nail. For his freedom. For his life. 

The raid came faster than anyone expected. The police tore down the doors to every single business along the Row and dragged out any and all mythical’s they could find. People ripped from their beds. Parents were stolen right before their children’s very eyes. Any winged person who tried to fly away was shot down before they could ever get a good flutter going.

There was no chance for any of them anymore. 

Freddie refused to go. 

He stood in the streets, his head up high and he held onto his dignity. He would not back down and give in. He had spent his life being spat on just for being who he was and he refused to allow that to carry on any longer. 

It was clear the mortals weren’t going to take no for an answer so they were left with very little choice. Roger had never watched someone die before. He had seen people being beaten up, fae and mortal alike, but this was far more than that.

The police or maybe they were just mortals supporting the new law, nobody really knew any longer, kicked and punched and beat them both for resisting capture. There were already so many bodies lying along the streets that adding two more made no difference to the bastards. 

Freddie was gone in a blink. Roger laid there, broken and bloody, watching as the color drained from his friend’s wings. You could only be hit so many times before your body caved in. Roger didn’t even know if their fist were the only weapons of choice. Police was using their batons and nowadays, any man walking the streets not carrying a weapon was odd to see.

Freddie’s movements became ridged and it became very clear that it did not matter how famous you could be. It did not matter how much talent you had to show off or that your picture was posted high up on the billboards just overhead. At the end of the day, all that mattered was who you were and what people saw you as. 

Freddie was a fae. A fairy. A holder of the Pixie bloodline and they hated him because of it. He didn’t go down without a fight, but he went down regardless, right in front of Roger. They had roughed him up just as well, spitting on him for good measure as they left him on the ground. Roger must have guessed they thought he’d die as well as they didn’t bother to pick him up and drag him away as they had so many others. 

Roger waited for a beat, counting the seconds before mustering whatever strength was left and crawled over to Freddie’s body. It had only been a few nights ago that he saw Freddie; went to dinner to continue catching up. They were making plans for a future that was no longer in sight. Everything seemed good. So wonderful. Now he was gone and the contract that held Roger’s fate meant nothing. 

Nothing meant anything anymore. 

Roger didn’t know how long he had been lying there among the wreckage. He was too tired to move, but his body didn’t give in to the sleep it craved. The street lights were flickering and it was getting darker as the moments went on, but he knew that face and he knew that voice when he came to his side. For a second he thought it was a dream. That he had finally died and this was his exit towards a better life on the other side.

But the pain that came when he touched him was enough for Roger to realize that he was still burning up in the hell of this city, far away from whatever possible heaven that could exist. 

“He’s gone.” Was all he could blubber out. His eyes were blinded by his own years and the feeling of John’s arms around him were the only thing keeping him from losing it completely. “I was right there. I was so close!” 

“I’m sorry.” Was all John could say. He held onto Roger, keeping him close. Even despite the pain in his body, having John so close to him brought Roger a sense of serenity. John pulled away after a moment, his head turning and twisting as he looked around. “Roger, we have to go.” 

“We can’t leave him!” Freddie didn’t deserve to be left in the street like some nameless lamb. He was better than that. He deserved a proper burial and a headstone and some fucking revenge. 

“Roger, the train leaves soon. If we’re not on it, you could be next.” John muttered darkly. “You have to be brave, yeah? Remember how I said I couldn’t swim?”

Roger dimly recalled the story that John relayed back to him, speaking about his greatest fear that carried on into adulthood. Roger’s own fear had been losing his youth and good looks; the things that kept a fae like him worth something. How silly that seemed now. 

“I had to be brave as a child and I need you to be brave now, Roger.”

Jim appeared then, pulling some looked to be a white sheet that he gathered from the wreckage of his own shop. He placed it over Freddie, allowing him to have a bit of privacy among the dead. 

“We have to go,” Jim muttered, turning when he heard the sound of another crying in the distance. He went off, leaving the two along with their fallen friend. 

“Roger, please,” John whispered. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, love. But we have to go. Please, Roger.” 

Roger knew he was right. He could either stay with Freddie and wait for the next round of bastards to come and take him or leave to have a chance to survive. 

Roger was tired of surviving. He just wanted to live. He had to be brave.

And that was exactly what Freddie would want of him. To live.

So with a final kiss on the forehead, Roger pulled away from Freddie, whispering a somber goodbye before taking John’s arm so they could walkway. 

His body hurt and his wings seemed beyond repair at this point. Roger didn’t know when or even if he’d be able to fly again, but none of that mattered right now. He clung to John as they shuffled through the darkness, moving along the shadows caused by the twitching street lights still standing above them. 

John shrugged off his overcoat, which was ripped and dusty along with the rest of their clothing, but it allowed for shelter against Roger’s crooked wings. He placed it on Roger, keeping his arm around him as they carried on to their destination. 

Jim appeared soon after, though he was not alone. He carried a small child in his arm; a tiny fae whose dirty face was streaked with lines from years he had cried. In a swift, hushed tone he explained the whereabouts of the child’s mother. Killed and left in the street just like all the others. Jim knew not if she had been violated but he couldn’t leave the toddler behind. 

They walked together, stopping every few feet so Roger could catch his breath. “What if the trains not there?” He asked quietly. “What if they don’t let us on?”

“It will be there. And we’ll get on without issue.” John reassured him. Roger wanted to believe, but he found it very hard to. 

Going into his pocket, he dug out the music crank, holding it up to John. “It doesn’t work anymore.” He admitted, his eyes closing as he leaned back against a nearby wall. 

“I’ll fix it,” John promised. “The moment we’re settled into the country, I’ll have it working like new.” 

He took it from the blond, shoving it deep into his own pocket for safekeeping. Tugging on Roger’s arm, John pulled him away from the wall and back along the sidewalk so they could continue their journey. 

Roger didn’t know how long they had been walking for. Each step was torturous, but he kept going. Jim was muttering things he could barely hear, but it was the sound of the train whistle that got those blue eyes to open wide. 

“Five-minute warning,” John told the group. “Come on. Just a little further.” 

Jim ran ahead of them, holding the broken fence apart so the other two could climb through. They hurried down the end of the tracks where the final cars were. Jim banged on one but got no response. He placed the small boy down for just a moment to pull at the door on another, but it was locked. Finally, towards the very end, a familiar face popped into the light. 

“John? Roger?” Anita called out quietly. The group scurried onwards; the second warning whistle blaring off as they reached the car. “I told them not to leave you behind.” She whispered. 

Inside the car were more survives; mortal and mythical alike just trying to leave this horrible place. Jim passed the fae toddler to Anita, instructing her to get inside. Roger groaned aloud; the piercing feeling against his ribs keeping him from climbing up on his own. 

Suddenly, there was shouting. The three men turned their heads, watching as police with flashlights and hunting dogs turn down the tracks, coming this way. 

The final whistle shouted off and Roger could feel the engine roaring. 

“Jim. Get inside.” John snapped. 

The other man pushed himself up into the train car, standing to his feet as he looked back at the men on the ground. 

Roger turned to John, those blue eyes hazy. 

John looked at him, a whisper of a smile creeping across his lips. “I never got to tell you this. No time like the present.”

“John,” Roger’s words were cut off by a kiss. It wasn’t hot and heavy, nor was it chaste and simple. It was filled with words that Roger could not think of at that moment and as John pulled away, he heard John speaking the only thing he wanted to say. 

“I love you.” 

With a swift nod to Jim, Roger was lifted up and into the car. Rather than hopping in to join them, however, John gave one final glance before taking off running. 

“John?” Roger spoke out, freezing up in Jim’s arms. He tried to break away, shouting the man’s name again and again. He tried to stop him. He had to stop him, but it was just too late. “JOHN!” 

Jim tossed Roger aside, moving to slam the train cars door shut. They were left in darkness as the train rumbled and began to pull away, leaving the broken down fae to weep and scream in the wake of it all. 

XX

John took off running in the direction of the police, serving only at the last second to avoid them. It was enough to capture their attention however and as they sent the hunting dogs after him, he just continued on running. 

His body should have been tired. Should have shut down from exhaustion and hungry and dehydration, but he kept on moving. With the police on his tail, just dragged them away from the train station, using himself as bait so that the train could leave without being stopped. 

It was a sacrifice he was willing to make, even if it meant getting himself killed in the process. He got halfway through the city before realizing he had brought himself all the way down to the harbor. Police were lining up the other faes, boarding them onto the nearby ship that would bring them back to their own land. He tried to throw the police off, to confuse them in the mess of people, but he was taken down before he had the chance. 

An arrow went through his shoulder, sending him down onto the ground and into the dirt. The hunting down growled and sniffed around him, barking around and alerting the authorities who quickly came to his side.

They looked over him with flashlights, trying to pick up any sight of wings or hooves or anything else that would indicate that he was mythical. 

“Mortal.” One of the officers muttered. 

“He smells like the fae.” Another commented, pulling the dog off him. 

“He’s a traitor then. Put him on the ship.” 

John was lifted from the ground then and dragged towards the line of those being sent off. John knew he wasn’t going to survive in the land of the fae; maybe not even on the ship going there. So he decided to make another decision that would seal his fate permanently. 

With a cry of anguish, he ripped the arrow from his shoulder and stabbed it into the neck of the person dragging him on. Whether or not he killed the officer did not matter. Assault was assault and there was no going back from there. Pushing away from the scene, he used his last bit of strength to make a run for it. 

The police were on his tracks, but it didn’t matter much. John knew exactly what he was doing and where he was going. 

Off to the water's end, by the barred off the cliff. A place where tourist would take pictures and lovers would propose. On a sunny day, it would look gorgeous and peaceful. If he hadn’t been such a fearful man, it would have been a lovely place to take Roger out on a date. But all of that seemed so long ago. A world full of possibility and excitement that just didn’t measure up any longer. And on a night like tonight where the waters were chopping, it was like something out of hell. 

Climbing over the bar that kept you from the edge, John took one last look behind it. One final glance to this city that he had called his own. It had seemed like a dream coming here, but not it was nothing more than a nightmare.

The police didn’t bother shooting at him again and instead instructed him to put his arms up to where they could see them. John did what he was told. He extended his arms out wide; his lips curling into a smirk as he tipped himself backward. 

And as he fell from the end and crashed down to the waters belong, the only thought on his mind were those beautiful blue eyes; brighter than any ocean and any sky. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know what to say y'all. All I can think about is that "Had to do it to em" meme. 
> 
> Hate me? You can tell me. Please tell me. Do any of you even like this? I feel like I'm losing my mind.


	7. Sven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I went to the Global Citizen Festival over the weekend and PHYSICALLY SAW FELIX TAYLOR WITH MY OWN FUCKING EYES LIKE HE WAS LESS THAN 10 YARDS FROM ME and now I put him in fanfic. Do I feel dirty? Little bit. Ah well. Enjoy!

Roger didn’t know if he’d ever get used to living in the country. The wide-open fields and starry skies. The quiet nights and chilly mornings. It didn’t seem real. It all seemed like something out of a romance novel. Picturesque and beautiful and something Roger was completely unworthy of. 

When the train reached its destination, the people on board were greeted with mercy. The new land they had entered heard what had happened in the city and allowed them to stay for as long as they needed. Some went off in hopes of finding a place of their own while Roger remained with Anita and Jim. 

The former still harbored hope that her lover had survived it and kept that hope, no matter how dim it seemed, as the weeks went on. 

They had made a home for themselves, along with the toddler that Jim had rescued. It would have been so easy to pass him off to an orphanage, but they didn’t want to take the chance of a young fae being passed on or left behind. 

Roger would have been lying if he said he didn’t take to the young boy, whose name they found out upon arrival. Felix was only three, but he was smart as a whip and clever as ever, and over time, the trio found ways to make him laugh and smile. He had witnessed so much darkness at such an early age, but they were determined to show him that life was not all that bad. 

Roger never expected to be in the care of a child. He preferred men so pregnancy wasn’t possible and he figured if he ever settled down it would be when he was older and didn’t have the time or chance to take in a child. 

Anita wasn’t the motherly type but she did her best and while Jim enjoyed kids, he preferred to keep himself busy keeping their home afloat. Roger took the child on, spending the days with him and teaching him new things. 

Roger did not want to carry on after what had happened, but he knew he had very little choice. He lost so many close to him, but the alternative just wasn’t good enough. He was sick of surviving. He didn’t want to die. Roger wanted to live and that was exactly what he would do. 

They made a home close to the woods. They found an abandoned cottage that Jim turned into a home for them all. They hunted and grew their food and cut down wood for the fire. After another few weeks passed, though Anita and Jim found themselves jobs in the village. Anita was making clothing and Jim was working as a blacksmith. 

Roger would stay behind with Felix, working the house duties just as he would at Garden Lodge. It was a simple life, but a good one. 

One afternoon he took Felix out into the woods with him, just to enjoy the fine weather and collect anything that deemed worthy of taking back with them. 

They got closer to town and heard the usual ruckus of the people. Felix was a curious lad and Roger knew one day the boy would want to seek out children his own age. He pondered on the idea of moving closer to the village, to be apart of society again, but that would be a discussion for a later day. 

After a good while of people watching and collecting flowers, berries, and rocks, Roger decided it was time to turn back. 

Felix didn’t move, however. Roger tugged playfully as the boys outstretched wings, watching them flutter with curiosity. “Listen,” He told Roger. 

The blond paused, waiting for whatever it was that caught the toddler’s attention. Slowly, the gentle melody filled the air. Closing his eyes, Roger allowed the quiet instrumental music to play somewhere in the distance. The sound made his heart shatter as he realized what song it was.

“Pretty,” Felix whispered softly. 

“When I was your age, my mummy used to sing it to me,” Roger admitted. 

“Will you sing it now?” 

Roger smiled fondly at the boy. When they first took him in, neither knew what to do with a child. No one knew how to handle the night terrors that came to him. Jim tried to hold him close, but it only did so well. Eventually, Roger did what his own mother would do and would sing to the lad. It worked and he had gotten used to singing to the boy, requested or otherwise. 

Kneeling so that he was eye level to Felix, Roger began singing the sweet melody that was locked away in the back of his mind. It had been so long since he heard that tune that it brought back better memories for him. Of his family. Of that man. People he loved. 

_“I’ll fly for you. My child, my son. Sweet dreams to you. My only one. Lora lie lo, Lora lie lo. My child, my son, lie lo.”_

Roger sang even when the music in the distance stopped and only paused his own vocals when he heard someone say his name. 

Roger turned then, his eyes capturing a face that only existed in his memories. His hair was grown slightly and had a slight curl to it. His jaw was thinner than the last time he saw him and no longer was he dressed in the business attire, but worn beaten denim, a knitted sweater, and a small jacket. 

Roger still had the overcoat that John had given him and it hung up in memory of all they had lost that day in his closet. Sometimes he would look at it, run his fingers over the bloodstains and poke through the holes. He would think of when it was new and clean and they would go to the opera house or out to dinner. Back when life seemed too good to be true and obviously was. 

For a moment Roger thought he was imagining things until Felix stepped forward, taking Roger’s hand as he hid behind the man’s leg as he stood. 

“Roger,” He spoke again, that voice sounds so sweet. In his hand was the music crank that he had taken from Roger all those months ago. Now fixed and playing like new. 

“John.” He replied breathlessly. “You’re alive.” 

“So are you.” The brunet teased, a smile coming across his lips. John came forward, bringing only a small distance between them now. 

“How?” Roger asked him. 

He heard no word of what had happened back in the city. The only thing now it was still in shambles and the new chancellor was trying his best to keep order. Mythical’s were not allowed in though none seemed eager to visit. Roger had no idea what they did to the mortals that assisted in the escape but figured it was not good. 

“Long story,” John admitted, turning his gaze from Roger’s so he could look down at the small boy. 

Felix continued to hide behind Roger, his wings fluttering nervously. When John looked up again, his eyes narrowed before opening wide. “Roger. Your wings.” 

It had been the hardest choice he ever had to make. When they arrived in the country, there was only one doctor who could treat him. The cruelty that he had faced was too much on his body and his wings were beyond repair. No casting or wrapping would undo what had been done, leading to the doctor to amputate them. 

What a fae truly a fae if he didn’t have his wings? Roger didn’t have the answer to him and he found himself avoiding mirrors or sleeping on his back for some time afterward. He had gotten used to it over time and found it was just another means of survival. 

But Roger was serious when he said he was through with surviving. He didn’t want Felix growing up having to survive. He wanted the boy to live and he wanted to live with him.

John moved forward then, breaking the space between them to pull Roger into another embrace. He had forgotten how wonderful it felt to be held by somebody. To feel the warm touch of someone who wanted to feel a touch of your own. Roger leaned into John, feeling a breath leave his chest that he did not even know he was holding inside of himself. 

Things after that weren’t ready, but all good things never were. There were still night terrors and the underlining fear that the entire world would go against the mythical’s. The realization that bad things happen to good people was a hard pill to swallow, but John and Roger did what they could to live each day after the next. 

John had revealed that after falling (leaping really) from the cliff that despite the underlining fear, he found himself coming to the surface. The waves had been on his side and threw him onto the beach, far from all the trouble in the area.

He snuck back into the city, going to his home and remaining there as he healed from his own wounds. He went unnoticed for a long while and after things settled down he made his way back to the country where he was raised. He looked for Roger and refused to stop looking until he found him. 

Only for Roger to stumble upon him instead. 

John had his own home not too far off from Roger’s and after a bit of convincing, the blond finally gave in and followed him there. They took Felix with them, though made sure to pop in and visit with Anita and Jim whenever they could. 

Jim had begun courting someone in town while Anita still held onto the belief that she would reunite with Brian someday. Roger used to roll his eyes at such hopeful ideals but now found himself hoping that she got what she wanted.

Felix took to John faster than expected. The man was wonderful with children and spoke of one day taking in another. He would play games with the toddler and read to him whenever he asked. John couldn’t sing, but he was more than happy to play a tune for him if asked. 

John worked in the village and they had an uncomplicated life. Normal as it could be for a mythical and man to be together. John continued to tinker and invent, proving that all was not lost. 

And when he pulled Roger into his workroom one early afternoon and fitted him for a pair of mechanical wings, Roger couldn’t help but smile. It wasn’t ideal and it wasn’t perfect, but it didn’t need to be. It was still a work in progress but as Roger lifted off the ground, the metal wings fluttering behind him, a glimmer of hope and excitement bloomed inside of Roger. 

It was another example of how the two found their way to live happily together and find the light in the darkness of their world. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did y'all really think I'd do you dirty like that? We believe in happy (bittersweet) endings in this house. 
> 
> I'm sad to say I do not have anything else planned for this couple. Not saying I won't write anymore, but I am content with all the stories I have done and don't have the need to pump something else out. Who knows what the future holds, however. 
> 
> Thank you all so much for reading this and everything else I have published. You're all wonderful people and I adore you endlessly.
> 
> If you are able, I highly suggest you watch the show this was based on Carnival Row. Wonderfully written and very exciting.

**Author's Note:**

> All right so, to anybody confused:
> 
> Mythical: magical being.
> 
> Mortals: non-magical being
> 
> Fae: fairy
> 
> Anything else that doesn't make sense, just google. Also, watch Carnival Row.


End file.
